T 0 R N
by SomeoneI'mSure
Summary: Nothing is as it should be. Insecticons, Decepticons, and Neutrals are only half of it. One ex-human transfan with a hero complex will discover that being a hero sucks, because sometimes in order to save the many, one must sacrifice the few... Even when you don't want to. No sacrifice, no victory. OC Warning. Rated for Rape & Torture. Genre: Adventure, Mystery, Angst & Romance
1. Genesis: Awakening

**Though this story may feature many aspects of alternate Transformer universes, it is mainly AU. Though it's a transfan-turned-transformer story, it will focus on the transformer aspect and not the human aspect, and many of the human characters will only experience brief cameos and scenes, never to actually partake as main characters. If this bothers you, then please don't read. **

**It was originally going to be a rewrite of the movies, but it has since spiralled out of control from there. **

**That being said, there will be one transfan-turned-transformer character, but she will simply be a witness to things to come – though she has yet to learn that. **

**Hope you all enjoy the story!**

0/0/0/0/0

**Torn**

_____"Sometimes we don't meet our heroes until it's already too late. Sometimes… we have to become the hero. And it always tears us apart." _

___~ Anonymous..._

0/0/0/0/0

**Genesis**

**Prologue**

_Awakenings_

0/0/0/0/0

STASIS LOCK… CANCELLED.

In the victimized tortured remnents of the reclusive mind, pain was a friend. Alone against entire armies of nameless uncaring faces, it was the only friend anyone can have. Everything else was a symbol of what could be achieved, or what had already been lost.

Hospitals didn't materialize out of the darkness shrouding her awareness of the world around her. Face she recognized as family didn't open their arms and hands to her in unrecognizable signs of love and worry and relief. She did not mind it. Darkness was shadow, and she always lurked where no one could ever see her, mourning for those she had lost.

She was unafraid, at least no more than usually. What was fear again? People always talked about it as if it were such a strong thing… but she had never experienced fear before.

Wait… that was a lie.

Fear had been the very last thing she felt, before the pain and the darkness.

She accepted her lot in life much more easily than she had expected. Everything fit into place so easily after death. There was nothing left to do, nothing left to fight for, and all that was left was an uneasy peace.

Could this be the afterlife?

A flicker of warm fear rushed through her, a bright white light in the shadow. Amusement flickered through at the part of her that had never given up, that flash of hope that never died out.

Perhaps not.

REBOOTING…

She was dragged from the state of unawares to waking up. Energy surged through her body, fire blossomed in her core, and an unfamiliar system wrapped itself around her core personality. It demanded her to think in one pre-determined way. Heh, when did she ever do that?

That would be the first thing to tear beneath her mental digits, once she had fully grasped the waking world. But, ahh, that could wait. The world could wait. Life could wait.

But there was one mental edge, that small invisible line between being fully awake and fully asleep, that she suddenly tripped over. Memories rushed out of the gloom, turning the darkness into a frenzy of blues, greens, greys, browns, reds… coalescing into images that began to play her whole life.

She had taken a trip to a lake, watching the deep blue-green waves lap at the shore in their undying rhythm. Her first _real_ memory, strapped in a life vest at the age of five and sailing the ocean blue with her parents. Dogs played in the water, birds flew out to sea… life was wonderful. She could almost imagine it like those romance novels, with all those pretty words that she had yet to comprehend.

And the dream died.

It happened instantaneously. Eighteen years worth of memory all rushing into one spectacular end. A flash of car lights, a dark and cold rainy night, blue-green rushed in amongst bright white and the spectacular flash of cracking pain.

She realized she was awake when she heard her breath stutter, before returning to a rhythmic pace. Just as she openned her eyes, she realized something was definitely _wrong_.

Everything was _wrong_.

Her arm appeared before her vision and she found herself staring at the heavy limb. Metal… she was covered in a thick layer of metal, armorlike and yet startlingly alive – _warm_. No man-made armor could move so effortlessly around a human body. Metal slab overlapped metal slab, creating a sharp edged look that she could hardly recognize as herself.

Metal attached to thin metal coils moved soundlessly over yet more metal layers; they wrapped protectively around the main form, leaving no spaces for fingers to slip through. Her own fingers, alien and strangely black, tugged at the armor experimentally, pushing in some places and clawing at others, until she was both satisfied and sickened at what she felt and saw. It acted like plated skin, walls of coils acting as muscle and skin beneath the metal surface.

It was strange how her thoughts instantly turned to her looks. Not for the sake of looking beautiful or even discovered how much beauty she had lost, but simply out of a sudden thrill of excitement, and unexplained puncture of dread in her tanks, that catapulted her off the berth and sent her seeking out the nearest visible reflection. She didn't have to go far; everyone wall here was a big discolored mirror.

Fatty didn't even begin to describe the muscular body type that stared back at her. In fact, the body in the reflection was hardly even feminine. From the bulk around her shoulders, the massive squared winglets, the columns for legs, to the hexagonal shaped chevron, she was anything but a sexy femme. Black and white, edgier and darker than she had expected, from an ex-cockasian female.

She shook her wandering thoughts away. Those thoughts were for girly girls, not tomboys intent on taking over the world or even saving lives.

That thought made her want to think back on those last few images she had glimpsed before waking up. It made her shudder and she managed to push them away. That could be done later, when she didn't have anything else to explore.

She shifted on her pedes, memory of her time as human and the feel of her normal callused feet compared to her now metallic plated pedes. It felt she was wearing metal shoes that reacted exactly the same way as a transformer's pede instead of something else. Marveling at the strange sensation, she took a few controlled pedesteps around the room, pausing when something else caught her optics.

She was standing in a medical bay, or some nightmarish creation of one. Five berths lay in a row across the semi-massive room, with cabnets and counters all on one side of the room. Five pristine tables decorated the room, each loaded with weaponry, medical tools, and yet other thing she could not immediately identify. Her optics pierced through the darkness of the medbay easily and she quickly saw that there were no built in light systems, though she could see the faint blue glow of machinery around her and could instantly tell that all the walls were a familiar and intimidating blue-purple color.

Worst of all, she instantly recognized the four other bodies lying on the only remaining berths. She could not tell how she recognized them, only that she did, and that was more terrifying than accessing her memory banks and reviewing those last seconds of the life she could no longer swear she had.

It was like everything had transformed in to a clean slate and she was subject to a new world with new physics and new laws. Fear of the unknown had her rooted to the ground, even though she wanted nothing more than run away, fly down the hallways and forget what she just realized. Instead, she ventured boldly but slowly forward, ignoring the jittering sound of her armor as she came closer and closer to the first familiar face.

She saw the flash of headlights, the dark blue of a rainy night, and the familiar form of her sister walking across the street. One night driver too confident and too stupid to be driving on that road, was already starting to hydroplane further up the road. His route aimed straight for—

Her servos shot out and gripped the faceplate staring up at her. She recognized that shape, so different from the face of shock and horror as she took her last painful breath from a cracked chest. Calm, serenity, peaceful, much as she had been before. This was her sister.

The cold silence was unnerving, scary even, and she suddenly found herself wanting some other confirmation that she was here. Her digits began working at the seams of her armor, tugging the slender seeker's chassis apart with gentle but furtive jerks. A spark casing slowly but surely revealed itself, blue light casting deeper shadows in the light starved room. A digit tentively stroked the blue glass, before it jerked away, frightened and she pulled away from her sister, the seeker's canopy napping snuggly shut around the spark.

Her sister was alive and well. She was stuck in a metal body, after having just died. No words from Primus were telling her anything otherwise.

The room had gotten stuffier, smaller, and the sudden darkness only helped to add on to that illusion. Her pedes half-slid out from under her as she bolted from the room, coming to a halt as she ran into the circular door, unfamiliar with anything but a square one, and fumbled (scrambled) to magically open the thing. After a few seconds of mad panic, she finally back off enough to re-evaluate the situation and flick the switch that triggered the door. The instant it opened fully, she went from relieved standing to flying out the door and down the hall.

She did not go very far.

The hallway openned up into a massive doorway before snaking off into the darkness on her left. Doorways usually meant rooms, and rooms usually meant something you could hide in for indetermined amounts of time where no one could find you unless you wanted to be found, or unless you plain sucked at hiding. She did, but she threw herself into the doorway anyway, flinching backwards when it opened in that strange alien way and racing through hurriedly as it shut behind her. She twisted around, afraid some part of her leg might get caught, but it took a full second for the door to decide to close. Three spiral teeth-like segments shut tight, and the circular center of the door lowered and closed over them.

The simple sound of it shutting closed, clicking into place, like the sound of some ancient stonework machine booming into place, brought some small sense of security to her frazzled processor. She paced up and down the room – or at least the small platform overlooking the majority of the room, near the throne-like chair raised up on its dias and made to overlook the entire command deck. Pausing when she finally registered that the throne was there, she thought about climbing into the chair to see what could be seen, only some part of her realized that she shouldn't be in the chair – she didn't _belong_ in it.

Instead, she climbed up the backside of it, careful to place her arms and pedes so that she wouldn't fall. Who would catch her if she did?

That thought wasn't very comforting, nor was the strange awareness of the emptyness all around her. Her optics sought motion and movement, but all that came from outside was the massive window that she could now see from her spot on the throne. She couldn't get a very good view of its entire surface, or anything at it's lower points. She scrambled off the throne and aimed for the rim of the platform, leaning out over the thick console to see.

The window openned up into an expanse of oceanic floor, with familiar stretches of sea sponge and coral. Here, in the depths of the ocean where no light shown, she would have expected to find glow in the dark fish and sea flora but she quickly discovered that no such thing currently existed. The fish were not sightless either, their orbs for eyes still retained that solid black fishy pupil that surface schools were known for. When she looked upwards, her optics and sensors quickly told her that the water was not dirty or even salty, and that she was just so far down that she couldn't see even the faintest rays of sunlight or any other light. It was unnerving, a small reminder of just how much water pressure was being forced on the ship. She could imagine it groaning under the weight of the oceans, and she almost shuddered at the thought if it hadn't been for the fact that she was feeling extremely numb.

She pulled back from the console feeling shaky and she backed away from the window even more, only to discover that that only made the feelings in her mind and body worse. She needed to be near the window, not farther away, and she immediately reverses directions, redirecting her attention to ground level far below. Consoles bent in a smooth arch beneath the window, interconnected and shaped so that any mech manning it would be surrounded on all sides by computer screens, buttons and other equipment. She counted seven seats, the first one dead center and the second exactly symmetrical to each other. The other seats didn't match up, and she guessed that that was because they served no real purpose to piloting the ship. One seat on her right looked like it was trying to pretend to be a mounted turrent gun, and one on her lift looked purely there for guests or even decoration, with only one screen for it's occupant to monitor.

She leaned over the edge of the rim and tried to prepare herself for slipping down the other side. She had no shot at landing gracefully and wasn't even going to try. Best prepare for the most ungraceful landing she could manage, preferably pede first. Throwing both her feet over the rim and balancing her whole upper torso backward and lifting it up, she found herself sitting on the rim overlooking the lower area. She liked the view and promised herself that she would sit like that some other time just to view the fauna and flora of the deep underwater. With a quick vent, she dropped down, her tanks suddenly in her spark casing as she found herself free falling slightly forward for a few seconds longer than expected. Almost crashing in the back of the seat, she struck the ground pede first and immediately rolled backwards, the jarring stop knocking the breath from her. She didn't stay down at all, stunned for only a klik before she found herself to her pedes. A rush of pride filled her at her instant recovery and she smirked at her reflection in the mirror, only to suddenly blink in muted horror.

Red optics stared back at her from the dark watery underworld on her body. She hadn't realized she had them until right then, previously having only paid attention her black and white body, and she almost believed she was staring at someone else but a glance over her shoulder confirmed what her sensors already told her; she was alone. Those ugly reddish-brown optics belonged exclusively to her and she found herself both horrified at and hating that fact.

The sudden awareness that she missed something made her instensely hyperaware about many other things she had begun to miss. She knew for a fact she wasn't Cybertronian, that she couldn't possibly be Cybertronian, and the knowledge felt like it was suffocating her. The only thing that grounded her into reality, that confirmed that everything was real, was the simple fact that she knew she wasn't dreaming.

She watched the mech in the mirror, those large doors flicking only slightly even as her mind whirled in emotional thunderstorms, carefully calmed by her own sense of calm and her reasoning counterbalances.

_You died, and now you have entered another world. You are no longer human, you are Cybertronian._

Why? It was the first real question to come to mind and it was bugging her pretty badly. A quick scan of her memory files only confirmed her suspicion; Primus hadn't decided to grant any wish she had previously. She had the feeling that a more indepth scan of her memory chips would clear things up pretty quickly, but she refrained. She didn't want to confront those memories right now, especially the ones concerning those familiar faces on the berth. Unfortunately, not every part of her agreed with that sentiment and the small memory of those femmes and mechs on the berth only caused her memory circuits to supply them with names.

The first one she had run into her was a her twin, Rhyme. After her, was Oracle. After her, was Hex, and after her was Callipso. Four femmes and mechs bound together by bounds of friendship as humans, now disguised as Cybertronians in comas.

She squashed thoughts before they could blossom into reminiscences or something much worse. She needed to absorb what she had learned now, and not further hurt herself with a past that could very well no longer matter.

That thought hurt worse than what she had originally thought. One glance around herself only compound the issue. She was alone here, no one to talk to, no one to help hash out her problems to, and no one to hug her when she desperately wanted one, against everything she said and did to make people think otherwise. She shuddered.

She was alone here. This wasn't like college, where you still saw faces in the hallway, were stuck with a room you either didn't like or didn't want. You were forced to communicate with people at college and she grown slowly used to that. Now, the world had bottomed out from her and she was not prepared for the fallout.

It would be a different story if she actually had something to do in her spare time. Something to read, something to draw, or something to study. Fanfictions weren't anywhere around here, and tfwiki updates weren't going to happen anymore. There were no new movies coming out, no new series, no nothing. The last thing she recalled she ever watched before was that four Bayformer movie, while it was still in theaters. None of those could explain away her situation.

Her biggest problem, the one that unsettled her, was that there appeared to be no logical explanation for any of this. Not even some flimsy logical excuse. She couldn't bring herself to understand why she was here. She recalled saving her sister, jumping out in front of a car and pushing her aside, saving her, and that should have ended it. She should be dead, in heaven or hell, however her sins and good deeds had balanced out in the end and God had judged her worthy of whatever afterlife He planned.

In that sense, something was terribly wrong here and she was afriad of discovering the answer. But, discovering answers was a thing she did when her curiosity was piqued and bugging her day in and day out. She found answers, no matter how well hidden they were, and that's what she found herself doing as she finally got her sea legs and walked up to the nearest alien console. She rested her digits on the keypad, at a loss of what to do. She scanned the unfamiliar glyphs which dotted the surface of the computer console. They weren't Japanese letters, or English ones, but she slowly discovered that she understood them. Each sharp turn and twist of a stroke, each line and crosshatch, meant more to her than she originally thought, though she could not translate them so easily. It was like she had once known the language, long ago, and had forgotten how to write or speak it, but could understand the words written and spoken aloud. The new sensation felt odd, but she ignored it in her sudden excitement to discover the answers she was looking for.

All she did was press one single stupid button.

And then, to her absolute horror, she knew _too_ much.

0/0/0/0/0

**End Prologue**

0/0/0/0/0

**Next: Act 1**


	2. Genesis: Lesson 1

**Torn**

_____"Sometimes we don't meet our heroes until it's already too late. Sometimes… we have to become the hero. And it always tears us apart." _

___~ Anonymous..._

0/0/0/0/0

**Genesis**

**Chapter 1**

_Promises_

0/0/0/0/0

_A note to my younglings, when you find this journal entry – I apologize for decieving you. It is natural for my kind to do that, unfortunately, and I detest the fact that I had to degrade myself to _Their_ methods in order to create you. _He_ has to be stopped and this was the only way to do it. _

_You must protect The Secret. You must not allow for anyone to know about it, in case it gets discovered by _Him_. _He_ will use it poorly, in every way it is _NOT_ supposed to be used, and _He_ will destroy it, and that would destroy any chance we have of restoring Primus to His Golden Self. _

_I know you will be confused, my younglings. I know you will not understand and might never understand why I had to do what I did, but I leave my mission in your servos anyway. It is imperative that you tell no one of this. No one. Not even the Prime. If any word of the Secret reaches _Him_ then our cause is lost._

_Please, my daughters, _protect this _Secret and all information surrounding it with your_ **life**_._

0/0/0/0/0

Fifty years. Fifty years of the same old routine.

Everyday, she launched herself out of her berth to find her room the same as it ever. The blue and purple walls had transformed to black, repainted in the ancient sign of mourning.

She had moved out of the not-quite-a-medbay and set up shop in her new room. Out of habit, or something else, she recharged with most of her armor off. She walked around the halls for three hours, entertained herself on the only Internet substitute on board, and found herself typing up hundreds of thousands of stories, memes and other entertaining junk to pass the time.

When her personal supply of energon finally ran out, she finally got around to making herself some bitter tasting distilled energon. When she was really bored, she found something to tinker with, whether it was her permanently removed armor still waiting to be put back on or some unsuspecting door panel that simply begged to be gutted and put back together again. About four door panels had sacrificed their lives in the name of reverse engineering and they still didn't function properly. She was going to change that with the next one. She was positive she had a strong enough idea of what to do to repair them but _just to be sure_… one more door panel to one more useless room had to be sacrificed.

Five door panels questionably repaired later and working up to standard, and she found herself at a loss at what else to do. After all, door panels were one thing, removing possibly important or unimportant machinery was another.

Unfortuantely, nothing on the logs told her how to repair a ship and so she was stuck with cleaning. She never had a problem with rust, and there was no bacteria or dead skin in the air to cause dust, so after the first clean up it sort of remained that way.

She resorted to self maintenance, and a lot of grease was carefully removed from what remained of her armor – her very sensitive underarmor that she quickly realized was painful to clean.

Then, finally, she dropped into a dead faint in the middle of some abandoned hallway. She had forgotten to take her energon. She still hadn't bothered with an internal chronometer.

Get up in the hallway, grab some energon, and get a proper recharge.

Wake up, run around, try to find something else to do, fail, collapse again.

Repeat.

After eighty-three years, it had started to grate on her nerves.

She had long ago come to the realization that it really wasn't a dream. Even though she had no doubts about it to begin with, it felt good to finally find some real solid evidence that she wasn't dreaming. At least, it felt good in one sense, but terrible in another.

There was only so much one person could do before the loneliness really set in. The thrill of having no chaperone, having no diciplinary hand around, no authority, had quickly started to wane from excitement to sheer gut wrenching _boredom_. She hadn't realized until that moment just how much fun it was to push someone's buttons when said normal button pushing toy had suddenly fallen off the face of the map.

Pressing all of her mother's, E-Windcatcher, buttons (her brain was correcting everyone's name and title every time she tried to think about them now and it was really starting to tick her off) had been her favorite past time. A petty act that had escalated into fun had been robbed from her, and she didn't know how to feel about it. On the one side, she had never actually considered it petty nor even a habitual way to pass the time, until now when she actually had reaosn to think back on it, but it was and it had worked and now she was seriously torn between wanting it back and kicking herself for ever doing it in the first place. After a few years of thinking on it, she was really starting to regret even more of her decisions.

The ship remained steadfastly empty and devoid of motion; there was no one to talk to, no one to have conversations with, no one to hang out with or play a simple game of chess. Observing the fish just outside the Observation Deck window barely alieviated some of that boredom – it was only so much of fish behavior she could stand before she started seeing the same old pattern and found herself in a premanent state of boredom. She had already filed a lot of those fishy personalities into; Downright-Timid, Not-as-Timid, and Mr-I-Don't-Give-A-Hoot-About-Anyone-Because-I'm-So-Big-And-Bad. The later had a tendency to not really care about the curiosity on the otherside of the glass, but his very presence was enough to scare all the other fish away, leaving her devoid of entertainment for hours.

She began to realize the different between dark-days and dark-nights, and even the slight variations in light levels that told whether it was stormy overhead – though she could have also found that out through the way some smaller fish took shelter and the larger ones did not. At night, she could arrive on nights, none of the fish panicked at her presence. When she arrived on days, half the fish she only saw during that time decided to head for the hills and flee for their very lives. Even standing up sent some of the night fish swimming. In the end, she was really starting to give fishermen her respect. Even after the fish started to stop taking notice of her, she still found that respect lingering.

It had transformed into a mundane task that was barely interrupted. She acted on Autobot polit, her mind started to grow numb and the edge she had developed thanks to her curiosity had started to turn dull.

Then, she immediately noticed the sudden feeling of forebodding that rolled into the perverbial air. Something new had happened. The fish stopped coming; that single school of bright colored glow-in-the-dark fish that normally lurked around during certain days of the year suddenly disappeared a few days too early. That big Mr-Bad that had come out during the day, every single day, suddenly decided to move on to new territory. She couldn't see any fish in the deep dark depths of the sea; the faintly-glowing ever-present mass of moss and sponge faintly lit up an entirely desolate atmosphere. It was empty, as if every creature had packed up and moved to Spain while she had her back turned.

She stood in the observation deck, silent except for the barely-audiable but at the same time audio-shattering motion of gears as she rotated on her pedes, her knees and hips shifting uncomfortably in the dark. The loneliness settled everywhere, like a punch to the gut. She had gotten used to not think about it because otherwise it would drive her insane. She ignored the feeling in her stomach and focused her complete attention on the outside world and those subtle changes.

Something had blacked out the daylight, making the deep sea a few shades darker than normal. It was almost pitchblack, and that prompted her to step forward, pressing up against the window and gazing upwards.

Black silhouettes, massive, flippers and tails marking them as aliens amongst the normal marine life.

Whales.

The mammal's low song sent vibrations through the glass window. They lumbered along, unfamiliar shapes casting dark shadows across lands that didn't recognize them. Power and size rolled from their beings like waves, terrifying those creations they would never cause harm. They were in families, one not too far behind the other.

Orcas. Their black and white bodies screamed danger to the darker greys of the larger wales. They moved swiftly, dolphins amongst the much larger mammoths, playful but outcasted because of their deadly colors. Seal-eaters; strangers in a strange land.

She wanted to be among them, one of them, free and playful. She wanted their safety and protection. She wanted to be able to feel that freedom.

She wanted –

A bright blue beam suddenly shot out of the ship at the nearest orca, startling it and startling her. Suddenly, the organic mass had transformed in her head, from organic meat sack to much more acceptable metallic. It burned in her mind before almost vanishing, minimizing into the corner of her sight like images at the bottom of her computer screen. Sounds greeted this image, her underarmor practically crawled on her metal being. She staggered back, clutching at her face, surprised but otherwise unharmed.

As it slowly sank in, she began to laugh. It was absurd! After fifty years of living alone on-board, she had finally acquired a transformation sequence? _Seriously? _She just wanted to laugh. She laughed at her own startlement at the sudden transcan, laughed at the absurdity of not having discovered or even thought about it sooner, and laughed for sheer joy of laughing. Slowly, she began to peel her fingers off her face, her laughter dying off as her optics darted towards the world outside.

A whole new world of opportunities had just landed right smack in her head.

Her mind had suddenly transformed back into a razor edge, alertness sweeping through her and causing her to suddenly straighten up. She turned on her heels, marching deeper into the core of the ship.

0/0/0/0/0

Putting on armor after a new transcan _hurt_.

Sure, finding the correct spot for each armor piece was a pain, but after connecting the armor it instantly reshaped itself to the new transcan, blocking any way for the surrounding armor to attach. In the end, she had to attach and unattach, before getting around to fixing all of the armor pieces and figuring out how to reattach them properly so they didn't grind against each other. Even then, her armor still felt weird, but she would have live with that until she found her own blueprints.

Lesson; don't transcan in your underarmor. Save yourself the trouble of having to fix all the individual pieces later.

She wanted to curse herself for not coming up with the idea sooner, then realized that she had come up with many excuses not to do it. She had been lazy in her duties to herself and it had cost her dearly. She promised herself that she would never do that again.

A full day later, she found herself beginning the first stages of her plan; digging a hole through the bottom of the ship and tunneling through to the ocean. The rest of the ship had to be seemless; no air could leak out for this to work. She had to have the ship act like a pocket of air beneath the surface, so no water would come streaming in to fill in whatever vacuum remained.

It wasn't something that was easy to do inside the ship, and she might end up causing more cracks in the infrastructure to appear in her attempt to find them. She could have punched a hole in the side, but then the other levels would overflow and things would get out of control. She did not know the structure integrity of the ship though she had to guess it was good. It was a Cybertronian alloy, after all.

There was no win-win situation here. She couldn't get out of the ship without causing some areas of the ship to flood.

She needed to think this though, but coming up with plans in her own head and never been her forte. She needed to write them down and look at the plans with her own eyes - she had failed physics for a reason.

Picking up a sharp shard of metal, she scrapped her plans out on a wall in one of those useless rooms with the door panel that she gutted and put back together again. Two of the walls were caved in, leaving the door's wall, the wall to the right of the door and the ceiling still intact. As she stared at it, she began recognizing fatal flaws in it and thus adjusted it accordingly until she couldn't see a clear outline of the end plan. She moved to the left and drew the newer and more correct plan, leaving more space for adjustments.

She needed a room on the outer hull, one that would preferably not be missed. She needed to add something to the room, so an underwater airlock would be easier to install into the room and she would not have to worry about a water leak or needing to cut up the metal surface to connect wires to the ship. It needed a self-sustaining energy source for however long it will take to fully install. She needed all this done before she made the first puncture wounds into the hull of the ship.

Once the water started, it wouldn't stop. She would have to hardwire the door of this room to remain shut until she got back, and she would need a manual over-ride in case the pressure of the water cause it to not function.

The goal was to leave the ship and come back in the near future with an airlock attachment that will pump out the water that had managed to flood the ship. Before she left, she needed to water proof the room and door so that none of the water leaked in to the deeper areas of the ship while she was gone.

0/0/0/0/0

She stood in the center of the room, glancing back at the future airlock 'attachments', which was a fancy term for symmetrical metal growths on both side of the wall.

Sealing the room off went flawlessly. Adding the future airlock attachments did not. Since the metal scavenged would be replaced later, she shouldn't have been so hesitant about it. She had double checked _everything_, but she still had her doubts about it. This was a little bit more complicated for her normal skillset. Her sister was the engineer; she was just the business manager.

_Couldn't have gotten through your first year of college, could you have? No, you had to be the hero._

She shook the thought off and kept working. The airlock plans were already made, and they were extremely simple compared to the technology around her. It would be pumping out the water and pumping in air. The air would come from the surface via a long extension tube, that would hopefully stand up to the water pressure.

That was the variable; the water pressure. She wouldn't know if her plan would succeed or fail until she was out in open water. If it failed, she had to have a few back-up plans ready to be put into action. If it succeeded, she had to use the back-up plans if something unforeseeable happens.

With everyone ready and waiting to be set into motion, like some metaphysical domino chain, all she had left to do was to take the plunge.

She had a knife she had grabbed from the tray beside her berth in the not-quite-a-medbay, the faintly glowing blue blade reminding her distinctly of a hunter's knife, complete with serrated teeth on the sharp edge. It would cut through the hull like it was butter; she had tested it out on the metal she had scavenged for the attachments.

Even armed with the knowledge of her back-up plans, she almost couldn't bring herself to slice through the hull. Her fingers trembled as she readied herself, her body prepared but her mind just _not_. The knife shifted uneasily in her fingers and she refrained from biting her lip, reminding herself that her denta would tear up her lip really fast and it would not grow back. Not like organic lips, anyway.

As if that had ever stopped her before.

Her hand shook as she made a feinted swipe at the wall, just testing the motion of the blade. She sucked in a breath, tensing her pistons, preparing to launch herself at the wall. She rocked back and forth on her pedes, trying to come up with the best strike. It was just like jumping down from the platform in the observation deck.

_Do it now, girl, before you lose your nerve._

She paused in her rocking, rolling the knife in her hand and sizing up the wall. She had to hit it as hard as she could and jerk it open as quickly as possible. Water pressure should do the rest of it, opening the wound up faster than she could otherwise. Unless the metal held up and didn't buckle, then she might have to cut up the hull more.

Might.

If the rush of water didn't knock her over first.

She chastised herself, reminding herself that no matter if it knocked her over she needed to get this done. Freedom waited overhead, and she had to get there.

She shifted again, taking a deep vent, fully aware of the massive water pressure just waiting to poor in. She checked over her shoulder, though that was hardly necessary thanks to her doorwings. The room look like a giant carving made of metal; seamless, slightly unshapely, but perfect for purposes.

It wasn't the fact that something _could_ go wrong that unnerved her. She made plenty of mistakes in her life time; she could get over it, almost too easily.

It was the fact that she had never before attempted to destroy something _on purpose _with the full expectation that everything _could_ go horribly wrong_._ It was taboo! Faux pas on the highest level.

To do it on purpose would mean it would happen on accident more often.

At least, that's what she had told herself.

It was ridiculous. She had to do this. If she didn't, she would never get out and she would never get help. She didn't back down from a challenge so easily (or so she claimed) and she was bound and determined to make this work. She would have to give it her all… and she had never done that before.

She was the procrastinator, the do-it-the-last-minute kind of gal, and she could do that surprisingly well. It was her twin who had always done thing on time. Her sister always put her everything into a piece of work, like a surgeon that never worked at a table. Everything would be organized, everything would be done on time, and everything would be perfect when she was done. Whether it be artwork, homework, or chores, she did it and did it well.

She loved her sister for it, and was always jealous of the attention she got for her patience and hard work.

She recalled for a brief moment that she had told herself that she would become someone the moment she went to college. She would change and transform into someone who could even surpass her own sister's perfection in skills. She hadn't had enough time in college to discover her own strengths and weaknesses; she had saved her sister from instant death shortly after settling into the routine of classroom and dorm.

It had been a second's thought, a moment of decisiveness that turned into action to save the life of the only one in the universe who had ever bothered to care about her. It had not been standing around for a few breems wondering how to get up the nerve to puncture the hull of the only thing protecting her from an unknown amount of water and pressure.

Then again, she'd never find out what would happen if she didn't do anything.

Sucking a deep vent, she shifted onto her pedes until she could strike the knife forward with all her force. She prayed to Primus that she would not die with this act of sheer stupidity, before she banished all thought from her mind and locked on target. Her pistons fired, her coiled body hurled thousands of pounds of pressure into one swift motion. Her glowing blue hunting knife sank into metal, and then she jerked it free.

It took a full moment to realize that nothing was happening. Water didn't fill in the small sealed room, though a few pieces of dirt and sand slid between the cracks, landing on hissing wires before tumbling down. She found herself leaning down to stare through the hole she had made. Nothing but dirt lay on the other side.

She let out a snort, and then a barking laugh, that echoed loudly in the confines of the sealed room.

0/0/0/0/0

So, it seemed she would not go swimming anytime soon. She was fine with that; she could never figure out how to float in deep water anyway and being a metal monstrosity would only compound the issue. She swore silently that she would never lift a hand or flipper to go into the sea. She could not argue that being able to swim as a robot wasn't an asset; she just didn't want to make any attempts at this exact moment.

After a long week of tunneling, she finally found herself breaking the surface – uh, that is, the floor of a very large cavern. Dark teeth greeted her as she peered through the darkness at the tunnels that extended off in every which way. One tunnel didn't even begin on the ground floor; a gaping black mouth that seemed ready to strike at her from the darkness, like a poised viper. She sized up the massive drop that lead to its entrance, absorbing the scenery like she had the blueprints for the airlock.

_It's best to investigate each tunnel separately_, she decided. Preferably with a long cable tied to the ship or some stalagmite. She would start with the most adventurous looking one.

A few joors later, after carefully thinking it over (while pacing through the halls, fidgeting in the not-quite-a-medbay and 'strategically' talking it over with her sisters), she grabbed a few energon cubes, subspaced them, and wrapped one end of a very long cable around her waist. She put the thick coil over her shoulder, wrapped it around a very thick stalagmite (giving it a few good tugs just to be sure the knot wouldn't slip) and began letting some of the line fall behind her as she walked up to the mouth entrance.

She paused on the entrance, doorwings raised and set as far forward as they could go. She threw down some more rope, even though it was hardly necessary, and occasionally glanced back over her shoulder.

"I'll be back," she promised, frowning as her voice echoed around the tunnel. Verbal farewells probably weren't the best idea right now. She shuddered at the unnatural silences, carefully beating back her own imagination at just what might lurk in those dark twisting shadows, and turned towards the dark mouth, optics forward and stubbornly refusing to look back as she marched into the dark unknown.

Her doorwings proved to be more useful now than they ever had previously. Unlike inside the dark ship's hull, the air moved through the tunnels, whispering their secrets into her doorwing's sensors. Her doorwings began to twitch toward the movement of air, moving back and forth in sync with each other as she hunted down the source of the wind. Wind meant air, air meant atmosphere, atmosphere meant surface.

Her pace began to quicken, her mind bent over the task of walking and dropping line, following the gentle tug of the sensors in her wings telling her that the surface was _that _wayor_ this _way. She was beginning to wonder when she would stop hearing the strange and unnerving sound of her own pedesteps echoing back at her from the dark. Occasionally, she halted, doorwings fluttering back and forth, audio horns hissing and struggling to identify some new sound or another. Every echo sounded skewed; drops of water sounded like high-pitched gunshots, pedesteps seemed to come up behind her, and every squeak transformed into the subtle snarls of a monster waiting around the bend.

When the blacks and blues suddenly gave way to greys, she let out a strange choked sound that caused her to freeze. Her doorwings twitched, her audio horns hissed, but the tunnels behind her remained silent. She began walking again, carefully placing her pedes and tiptoeing around the rocks.

Zoink!

She came to abrupt halt one pedestep away from light grey, her line gone taut behind her. She frowned, mentally retracing her steps and cursing herself for not having pulled the line taunt before going around the corners. She would have more length now if she had done that. Sighing, she uncoiled the end around her waist, tied it into a loop and flung it over the nearest stalagmite. She paused on the edge of the light-grey, before slowly moving forward into the light, unaware of her own pedesteps growing steadily faster.

Sunlight gleamed from far overhead as Sol inching towards what could only be the west, and if another joor had passed she would have walked straight into one beautiful sunset. Stretching her limbs, she relaxed in the sunlight, before seeking out a nice warm spot beside the cave's entrance to lean back and watch the show.

It had been too long since she had seen the sunset.

0/0/0/0/0

Morning was misty, with the glorious sunrise casting her side of the mountain into deep dark shadows, barely lightened up by the golden rays. She marched out into the forest, drinking her first energon cube of the entire trip, her paranoia telling her that it was unwise to faint again after the sunset last night. Using her hunting knife to mark every other tree, she made her way through the forest, quickly leaving the mountain far behind her. Her common sense told her that she needed to know where everything was in the vicinity so she had multiple escape routes in case things went south real fast. She marched up and down the whole mountain, scouted out along the deep forested valleys and travelled the full expanse of the oceanic shores opposite the side of the mountain she had emerged from. After a full orn of non-stop travel, she rested up at the base of the shaded side of the mountain to drink another full cube, before continuing down to the depths of the mountain and returning to her underwater chambers.

Her newfound freedom became her new escape. The dark not-quite-a-medbay was a reminder of her failure to awaken her sisters, and the more she stayed in the black ship, the more she wanted to escape and run far away and leave her troubles far behind her. But she lingered behind, straying only so far from the tunnels before returning, retracing the cable's length and finding herself watching the sunset all over again. Days trickled by and transformed into weeks, then months and then years. She kept expanding her territory, underground and above it, memorizing and mapping every inch of the planet's surface until she could no longer continue because she was running out of energon and she was forced to return home to restock.

Home… the term sounded so unfamiliar and yet it fit perfectly with the hole in the ground she had lived in for years now. Before she knew what was going on, a whole vorn had passed.

Her entire human lifespan had passed. It felt strange, almost as if she couldn't connect the last few years with herself anymore. Seconds had passed, maybe a few weeks, a month at the most, but not eighty-three years. She could not wrap her processor around that fact, as simple as it was.

She began to linger outside of 'home' for longer and longer periods of time, journeying farther and farther from her sisters until she couldn't even see the mountain which marked her home. Its jagged peak was a small lost grey smudge on the horizon.

She rested against a large boulder in the center of a woody grove, placing another blue cube to her lips and staring listlessly off into the distant horizon. She drank slowly, not guzzling it down like her normally healthy appetite demanded, and found herself quickly losing track of time. Her mind collapsed in on itself, lulled into the mundane and relaxed to the point of sluggishness.

She had no one to blame but herself, really, for what would steal her life away from the next vorn.

He emerged out of the darkness of night, his masculine spark signature expanding out too far past normal private boundaries, stroking her own female signature and dragging her out of her thoughts instantly. It took a moment for her to orient herself, before her red gaze fell on twin blue optics.

He smiled a smile that was more of leer, and she saw no real friendliness in his burning blue optics.

0/0/0/0/0

**End Chapter 1**

0/0/0/0/0

**My writing took an unexpected route today. Hm-hm. After some humorous moments, we are now introduced to a very important plot character. He's an OC, but's going to be very important to our Transfan's future.**

**Hmmm, I still haven't given you guys her name yet. Hehe, don't worry. That's going to come up next chapter. **


	3. Genesis: Programming

**Unless otherwise stated, all Cybertronian will be speaking Cybertronian.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own transformers. Just my OCs.**

**EDIT: This chapter has been rewritten. 8.23.14**

0/0/0/0/0

**Torn**

_"Sometimes we don't meet our heroes until it's already too late. Sometimes… we have to become the hero. And it always tears us apart." _

_~ Anonymous..._

0/0/0/0/0

**Genesis**

**Chapter 2**

_Programming_

0/0/0/0/0

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing all the way out here?"

She didn't move, didn't tense, didn't even recognize the words coming from his mouth. Her optics had fixated on the blazing purple insignia on his chest, with those evil slanted triangular eyes, and she suddenly found herself taking a backseat as her body transformed into death.

The blue flash of her hunting knife slashed through the air, digging into cunning-eyed purple insignia and twisting shattered spark casing into even more pieces. Instantaneous death came with an strongly internalized explosion of released energy, coupled by an expression of confused shock that permanent etched the mechanoid's face.

_Stop_.

Whatever it was that had grabbed hold of her did not recognize the death on the mech's face. It threw the dead mech aside and rush over to his fallen body, beating him and slashing him to ribbons. Energon and fluids stained the hard grass floor.

She had lost control. Something else had wrested her limbs from her and taken her for a joyride, but she was more than just a passanger meant to ride the waves until the ride was over. She was witness to some great demon which had lurked within her from the very beginning, before she had died and woken up. It had been there too. Cold endless rage. Hatred. Death.

Everything before her was like nothing she had ever imagined. She felt the tug of the body as she ripped it apart, with her own servos, her own arms, and she felt the sticky fluids pooling at her feet. After years and years of keeping a cool head, she had lost control.

_Stop!_

A flash of headlights blazed before her optics, and she reeled. The demon vanished like smoke, disappearing into the depths of her mind. It happened so suddenly that she realed from it and found herself kneeling beside the dead body. If not for his headlights going off, that _virus_ would have kept going on and on forever. She couldn't stop it, and it did not seem to want to stop.

The entire insident ingraved itself onto her memory, like a permanent scar.

She couldn't believe it had happened so quickly. The entire attack – mauling – had lasted for two seconds, and the mech that had only moments before seemed intent on raping her had been reduced to a pile of metal and leaking fluids. His spark casing was utterly shattered. His mottled grey body already turning into the faded grey of death.

She had ripped open his chest, revealing the shattered glass orb and the two robs that held it into place, not unaligned. Blue tentacles lay exposed on what remained of his abdomen, twitching and greying in death. His face had somehow twisted from stunned shock to screaming horror seconds before his mind finally slipped into the darkness of death. It made her sick to look at it and she realized with some surprise that she was shaking.

It was horrible, and she had been unable to stop it.

He didn't deserve this, regardless of her suspicions of him.

Except, some small part of her believed that he did. This wasn't the first time someone took a look at her size and decided to take advantage of her. It was the stongest part of her, and it was nearly as cold as the disease which had swept through her. She found herself slowly calming down in its company, as righteous fury took hold. Her fuel pump, which had gone a million miles an hour, slowed to a crawl and stopped. She flexed her digits, watching the liquids on them slip through the cracks and segments of her joints.

She did not relish this, however. He should have been delt with differently, with the respect his body deserved. She had mutalated him, killed him, and that was crossing a line she had drawn the moment she had thrown herself in front of a car for her sister's sake.

She was _torn_.

He was a Decepticon, yes, but so was Thundercracker and he had been mislead. She could have tried to convert him back, convince him that the path he had taken was the wrong one and try to save his life from vengeful Decepticons, if they wanted to destroy their traitor. It would have been worth a shot.

And yet, she could not bring herself to fully acknowledge that she had done something wrong. Correction; that the program _inside_ of her had done something wrong.

It hovered on the fringes of her consciousness, taunting her with its madness and claiming that it had acted purely in self-defense – it was the self-defense programming, so every system in her body claimed. She did not believe that for a second. It had done more than simply defended her. It had wrested control from the only being present that could have spared the mech's life. He needed a trial, a proper one with all the bells and whistles, and she would stand as his accusor. It shouldn't have happened like _this_.

She promised that she would delete it later and that seemed to settle the issue for now. Every part of her agreed that it could not stay as it currently was. But she couldn't do anything about it right now. Right now, she needed to think and absorb the situation.

Her focus returned to the forest and the rapidly cooling corpse.

She didn't like the idea of his alien liquids spilling out onto the forest floor. She wasn't squimish. It was just… Organic and Cybertronian, metal or liquid, did not mix. As she continued to watch him drip dry into the floor, she found herself increasingly disliking the idea of him staying there. Besides that, she need to make sure no one else saw what she had done. That thought alone filled her with shame. Terror, unfamiliar and cold, crept into her mind, trying to paralyze her chest.

She knew she couldn't leave him here. He had to be taken far away from here, buried, never to enter her mind again. Never to be remembered by anyone else, never to be revealed or else unleash this terrible mark of history onto the world.

If her sisters found out…

She choked on that thought, her mind suddenly made up. She gathered the mech up off the floor, not really thinking but doing, making sure that dripping liquid ran down her own body before hitting the ground. A glance behind at her abnormally deep pede prints made her blanch, but she kept going. If they had any good trackers, it would still throw them off for a little while, at least until she got to a cave and dumped him. The rocky ground would cover her pedeprints. She glanced around for weights, but then gave up. It would be useless to tie them to a corpse. She had better luck painting a big neon target on him with an arrow saying "Hey, I did this to myself while I was dead 8D." That would go over well.

Her sarcasm faded into the background as the numbing chill gripped her and she made her way toward the only mountain she could see. Everything else was a blur, meaningless to the thunderstorm within her mind.

She couldn't tell how much strain everything had put on her. She had just gone numb and her body was stuck in the same loop, one pede in front of the other, just like the machine she had turned into. But even something as earth shattering as this hadn't shut up that part of her processor which simply had to make those nonsensial observations. She frowned, pausing on the top of a hill and glancing back over the trees, hoping to see her own mountain amongst the green, as if it would somehow tell her what her twin would be thinking at that moment. An uneasy silence filled her, transformed her face into a light frown, that would ond day become so permanently attached to her character it would be come her. A shadow had fallen over her mind, turning her busy and curious mind into utter silence.

_Great, _said a familiar sarcastic voice, loud in the silence._ Only now does it hit you. Only now does it all _seriously_ sink in._

Images flashed through her mind and she looked away from the mountain, unable to formulate a response.

_You've been dancing around this your entire life. You tried to change the world, yourself, to bargain for what you lost a long time ago. And now its happened again. You can't run from it anymore, like some damned coward._

"I'm no coward," she said, but whatever conviction she had for those words had abandoned her. Her pedes were bringing her forward of their own accord, keeping up their own rhythmic pace.

_Rhythm_…

_You lost your sense of rhythm a long time ago. You stumbled, you fell, but you never got back up again. You're lost. _Again_. _

_Or were you even ever found? Face it, they've left you._

The servo was pressed against her face before she could stop it. It was an absentminded gesture, a sign that her defenses were weak. She could feel her spark turning to stone, hardening like her armor. Her servo balled into a fist.

_Weakling_.

The word bit into her, and she stumbled. She could feel her weakness creeping over her, from the shaking of her knees to the trembling in her backstrut. Her jaw tightened and she forced herself to carry the load and keep walking.

She realized she was just going through the motions. When was the last time she had done this to herself? She was young then, around the age of six. The very first time she had stood by and done nothing as death crept in around her. The very first time she had gone cold and angry enough to kill. It had scared her, and she had spent the rest of her life trying to dodge it or control it somehow. Yet, it always lurked in the background, waiting to strike.

And then, she had lost control. It had started the moment she had woken up. She had hoped it would not change anything and had gone back to her usual ways of pretending the world didn't exist. You can't get angry at something that doesn't exist.

Like always, it had failed.

Now, the very thing that didn't exist before had become real. There might not be an Optimus Prime around, or even an Optimus Primal, but she was a Transformer now. It called to question everything that had happened and that she once knew, especially considering there was no logical explanation that she could be here, not even one as lucrid as Primus granting her her childhood wish about becoming an Autobot. She had no insignia on her whole being. She wasn't a hero. She was just a shadow in this world, unaware of the precedings of the world around her. Like always.

Nothing had changed.

She was shaking when she finally reached the base of the mountain, and it took all her self-control not to hurl the body away from herself and scream in frustration.

"Why am I here?" she wondered aloud, listening to her voice – alien now, deeper than she was used to with a rumbling purr that could only belong to a throaty engine. Her optics turned skyward. "What purpose am I supposed to serve, Primus?"

It was a vain hope. Primus was probably too busy to register the question of someone as unimportant as she.

_And yet he brought you here and put you in this body._

That thought didn't come from the sarcastic voice, hovering at the back of her thoughts, ready with its double-edged sword of a tongue to cut her hope and optimism down. Her optics flickered back upward towards the sun, before she looked away, her gaze trailing the ground and up the cliff face. She spotted a crack in the alcove, something which would normally be invisible during this time of day against the slate grey. She moved forward quickly, leaning up against the cliff wall and being extra sure to not to touch it with the greying body. She shifted his form over her shoulder and pressed his shoulder into the crack, then shoved the rest of his body through. She tried to follow, but realized that her mech-boobs were too big for squeezing into the tight space.

Leaning away from the alcove, pressing a shoulder up a against a grey wall and crossing her arms, she found her gaze once again turned towards the golden sun. Her mind seemed to have lost all the edges, emotions turning it into soft puddy. For once, she didn't care, listening quietly to the memories which were stirred up by the sight.

Her mind wondered back through the years, to the day eight-three years ago, when she woken up to discover her sisters and friends had been turned into Cybertronians.

_No_, she corrected herself. _That she had been forced to believe they were humans_.

They had lived in a simulation. A simulation designed to prepare them for what would become their life off Cybertron, but something had gone horribly wrong with hers. She had dreamed of being human, instead of being Cybertronian. Her life had been nothing more than an illusion created by accident because of an incomplete download.

Or done on purpose for a reason she could not yet figure out.

Someone had to have done it, the very same someone who had left all of that information on the computers, who had been preparing from day one for her arrival and had spilled his life story to her and had explained his intent for her and her sisters. His words seemed to drift into her mind as she stared into the golden sun.

_A note to my younglings, when you find this journal entry – I apologize for decieving you. It is natural for my kind to do that, unfortunately, and I detest the fact that I had to degrade myself to _Their_ methods in order to create you. _He_ has to be stopped and this was the only way to do it. _

_You must protect The Secret. You must not allow for anyone to know about it, in case it gets discovered by _Him_. _He_ will use it poorly, in every way it is _NOT_ supposed to be used, and _He_ will destroy it, and that would destroy any chance we have of restoring Primus to His Golden Self. _

_I know you will be confused, my younglings. I know you will not understand and might never understand why I had to do what I did, but I leave my mission in your servos anyway. It is imperative that you tell no one of this. No one. Not even the Prime. If any word of the Secret reaches _Him_ then our cause is lost._

_Please, my daughters, _protect this _Secret and all information surrounding it with your_ **life**_._

He left no name, at least not in any message she had discovered on the computer. That had been the last thing on his mind, obviously. His intention had been to explain 'why', not explain 'who'.

_The Secret,_ whatever it was, had to be something extremely important, like the Allspark. It could restore Cybertron, and by extention Primus, to its Golden Age.

But how do you protect something that you know nothing else about?

And was _this_ her purpose? It was certainly a purpose, a goal to strive for, and she was the only one around to do it. That made it into a purpose, just for her. Perhaps the burden would be shifted to someone else further down the road, like her sisters.

She shuddered at that thought. No, they shouldn't be forced into that. Who knows what might happen to them if they were ever to uncover the Secret themselves. Five heads were certainly better than one, but it often created problems, especially when none of them were leaders. She would have to do this herself.

'Fun' had been sucked out of her life. The desire to do something had all but faded away, leaving her leaning against the cliff and looking out towards the sun. 'Boredom', on the other hand, only seemed to make itself more pronounced.

_You could always end it here, _said that voice in her head. _You have a blade._

Her gaze flickered towards her thigh and her fingers brushed the handle of the blade. She looked away.

_And only _prove_ to the world that I'm a coward?_ she mentally gritted out. _Never._

_The world might give me many names, but I won't give them any reason to find them to be true._

She watched the sun until it set beneath the horizon, then she pushed herself off the wall, shook her armor until it rattled all over her, and head picked a path down the mountain and towards the place she had started to call home.

0/0/0/0/0

**End Chapter 2**


	4. Genesis: Humiliation

**Unless otherwise stated, all Cybertronian will be speaking Cybertronian.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own transformers. Just my OCs.**

**Warning: This chapter includes torture, cracking under the pressure and sexual themes, including but not limited to rape. Viewer discretion is advised.**

**EDIT: This chapter has been revised. 9.1.14**

**EDIT: It used to be 6,675 words and is now 8,862. My longest Chapter yet. 83**

0/0/0/0/0

**Torn**

_"Sometimes we don't meet our heroes until it's already too late. Sometimes… we have to become the hero. And it always tears us apart." _

_~ Anonymous..._

0/0/0/0/0

**Genesis**

**Chapter 3**

_Humiliation  
_

0/0/0/0/0

Everything looked the same, but she the knew the moment she stepped back on the ship that something had changed.

It was instinct, almost. A tall-tale shifting in the air. It wasn't just herself who had changed that day, something within the sunken ship had also taken a turn for the worst.

The unnerving black walls made everything seem smalller, cozier, and only added to the feeling and sense of not being _home_. It was a strange feeling, especially after eighty-three years of living in the same place. Since when did it_ stop _being home?

She shuddered, her servo touching her hunting knife. The feel of the blade against her digit tips made her start and she pulled hand away, letting it fall to her side. She didn't want to touch the blade that had only a short while ago excuted an untried mech, but she knew better than to throw it aside. If someone had invaded the base, she could very well need it. Especially since it was the only weapon she currently had, or at least knew about.

Thoughts of walking away never once entered her mind and, if anyone had asked, she would have said simply that her twin was inside and she would protect her twin at any cost. End of discussion.

She was deep underground, standing in front of the area that was ready to be converted into an airlock and thoughts of actually building one rose in her mind, before she quickly dismissed it. The air that was seeping out of the ship was metaphysical, she was sure, and it wasn't something that she could block with a simple door. And it wasn't something that could physically harm her, unless she let it get to her mentally.

Shaking herself, she crept into the dark tunnel mouth, noticing the barest flickering of lights on the walls as it turned from greyish silver to pure black. She flicked aside the mental desire to imagine what that could possibly mean and turned her focus to her goal; getting to the Observation Deck unharmed. She stalked through the corriders like a predator, carefully taking the corners and making sure nothing was on the otherside.

She knew it was ridiculous but she wanted to be safe. Last time she hadn't looked around for someone, someone had been there and he had died. For their sake, she wasn't going to let that happen again. _Never _again.

She hated feeling like this, though she couldn't figure out _what _it was she was feeling. Trapped? Hunted? She didn't feel afraid, per se, but she certainly felt something. She was extremely tense, and she knew the only way she could stop feeling like this is if she somehow found some answers. And only the ship's computer had them.

Sometimes, she thought she actually did see something. A flicker of red optics, that could easily be explained away as a reflection of her optics, but when they moved in the opposite direction she did and glowed brightly from some distance away… _someone _was out there.

It was her processor playing tricks on her. That's what reason kept telling her. But reason didn't mean a thing when emotions boiled and struggled to take over.

She felt it following her, like there were optics on her back and echoes of footsteps behind her, but when she glanced back she saw that no one was there. Black darkness stretched out in all directions, no glowing red optics reflecting in the black metal to look back at her.

She knew it was there, but she had no idea where it was – whatever it was. Her fuel pump quickened, but she refrained from running – that was the first step to losing her self-control. She had enough common sense remaining to remember _that_.

Her knife was out. She couldn't remember when it was drawn. The blue glow flashed everywhere, pushing back the darkness. She could almost recognize where she was, and that brought back some semblance of peace of mind. She strode a little bit more confidently down the halls, slinking from one corner to the next and keeping an optic out for those glowing red optics.

She knew it was following her still.

Reaching the Observation Deck didn't instantly make things better. She caught a glimpse of the red optics in the glass and felt the fear choke her. Instantly, she turned away, focusing on the top of a table and trying to grip the terror which welled up from her tanks and into her throat like bile. She flexed her digits, feeling empowered when it bent beneath her touch. She had enough strength to look up and look around the room.

Twin red optics glimmered from the blue-black glass of the Observation Deck, but when she moved they mimicked her. She sighed. They were hers.

Relieved, she turned her attention to the only input and output device she'd had for the last few decades. The Councel had never responded to her before, beyond doing what it had been initially programmed to do – which was to educate her about one simple fact that she spent eight-three years rejecting – but she hadn't really been trying then. She hadn't tried again until now.

Trepidation rose in her tanks, though she could not explain why, before she forced it aside and bent to the task of getting some sort of response.

She skimmed through them, downloading the ones which stood out, and quickly found herself deleting them from the database because of a growing sense of unexplained paranoia. They were a curse to her, just as much as this place was – an endless sound shattering her eternal peace in her resting place at the bottom of the sea.

She mentally shook herself. If the answer didn't live in the logs, then perhaps in the very foundations of the programmings themselves. It was the only lead she had left.

The Creator – Maker or whatever he called himself – might have added a few to the ship and she knew from experience that some people had very telling styles in writing. Everyone left little clues behind that marked the work as theirs, whether they meant to or not. She just had to find the particular style of this peculiar author.

Every programming was thoroughly investigated for some sort of similarity, and she found herself growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress. Every time she stopped, she found herself staring into the Decepticon's optics as he slowly turned grey, with those odd staring blue optics staring lifelessly up at her, the purple insignia – the trigger – on his chest.

She did not pause in her wonderings to persue the thought any further – and found herself stumbling upon something much more familiar than that violent defense programming in her head. It was a simulation programming, one she recognized immediately. It bore the mark of both programs and she knew that she had to disect it.

Easier said than done.

The instant her electronic fingers brushed the program, the entire computer screen suddenly ducked out of her control. Pop-ups appeared on screen spitting out technical babble in Cybertronian, too fast for someone of her language skills to read, and then the whole screen when blank – black with a faded cerulean outline. A underscore line blinked in and out at the top of the page, thinking about what to do or say, and she found herself entirely befuddled by it. Then, it spoke.

_Diary Entry 1…_

_Please enter entry…_

She rocked backwards, confused and annoyed. She did not come all this way to be stood up by a computer diary program.

But with her mind suddenly hitting a brick wall, she found her attention turning elsewhere. She paused, allowing her mind to settle and wrap around that thought.

Programs that demanded diary entries often had a reason for it, and the end result could either bring her closer to her goal or keep her from it. She needed to think, so she got up and started pacing around the room, occasionally glancing up at the blinking underscore in case it had added more to the command.

No, it hadn't.

What did the Maker create this particular program for? If it was the first of a chain of clues, then she would obviously have to follow it. Somewhere along the lines, she would be informed of the whys.

What exactly was expected of her here? Her days activities, what she discovered outside the ship? A log book, a journal, a few sketches or just her introspective on life? Was there some kind of rulebook for this kind of thing?

She needed more information than she currently had and having nowhere to go was frustrating. And she had no one to ask, not that she asked anyone about anything to begin with; her pride wouldn't allow her to do that anyway.

Sometimes she hated her own pride, because for once she really needed somewhere here to tell her what's what.

Her pedes made strange clicking noises, like metal on metal, as she walked out of the Observation Deck, and down the nearest hallway. She needed to stop thinking that way; she was too wrapped up in her own self-criticism, too frazzled by what had happened, to be of any good right now. She needed a break, and then she could approach this with a clearer head.

Then she remembered the thing out there, waiting in the darkness, and she found herself quickly returning to the Observation Deck. She had never felt so much pressure from her situation before, and she realized this was how her twin had felt – everyday of her life.

She found herself pacing the length of the Observation Deck, walking back and forth in hopes of relieving herself of the building stress. She scolded her trembling limbs, stopping momentarily to gather herself. Her vents sounded heavy and loud in her own audios, and she began to inch along fearfully again, forcing herself forward. So many echoes, too many echoes, and every last one of them fed her imagination circuits even more. A memory of an ice ring came to mind, of being unable to inch along the walls because she didn't know how to work her ice skates, and she was so young and her sister was only a few feet ahead of her and then her sister went too far and she couldn't move on anymore- and- and-

That memory was the straw that broke the camel's back. She collapsed, clutching her face, giving off sobbing and whimpering noises. Her limbs were all shaking, her spark crying out for her sister who never heard her, and her mind screaming at her to just shut up- shut up before someone saw her-

And she just wanted to scream- to scream at the noises outside of her head- to scream at herself, at her own stupidity and pride, and at her fake confidence that she just had to pretend to have so that people respected her- to scream simply because she was unable to cry, that she was a giant fricking robot and-

She crawled onto the ground, panting, sobbing without tears, and pressing herself against the ground, stretched out, wrapping her arms around her head because her remaining pride forced her to stop from curling up into the fetal position. The position stretched open vent pathways, allowing her to breath easier and the cool ground helped calm down her rapidly heating systems. Her mind was slowly drawing into a blank, worn out over this unexpected emotional explosion, and she felt the last of the tremblings subside.

She hadn't done this since she was _eight_, and that stung her pride even more. Had she really been reduced to this?

Yes.

And she didn't care.

She didn't know what to do, never knew, and now she couldn't ask anyone. She was alone, and she was being haunted.

She felt like a little girl who had gotten lost in the forest, in a ditch, with no way out. That thought only made her want to stay on the floor and wait for her mothe- carri- someone to come pick her up off the floor, to carry the phantom of a weight which settled around her shoulders.

Her sobs and crying suddenly became more directed, more incoherent - she was nothing more than a kid. She was nothing more than a screw up. The only thing she had ever truly done in her life was save her sisters life, and even then she had somehow skipped heaven and gone straight into the next life. The world around her had stopped making sense a long ways back and she was tired of trying to make sense of it all. She wanted to give up, roll over and let death claim her – as it should have done a while back.

That last thought didn't settle with her. It wrapped around her mind like coils of mystery waiting to be solved, by whatever part of her first reached out towards it – paranoia, curiosity, suspiscion. It meant something, she knew, but she was almost afraid to find out exactly_ what_.

As an ADHD child, she couldn't just sit around and do nothing. She had to either think about something or straight up do it. None of this avoiding things. None of this laying around, waiting for death to claim her.

At least, she had always assumed that was her ADHD.

Either way, she could not simply drop that thought that simply begged the question – why wasn't she dead?

She believed in God, or at least a single god, whether that be Primus or not, and as a human the Christian religion had made the most sense to her. In some ways, she even believed Primus or God had helped her get out of a few tight spots in her life, helped her deal with things she couldn't handle alone, and she had never once thought about outgrowing him. If anything, the idea of growing up had only made her cling to this idea of deity even more.

Now, more than ever.

If anyone or anything in the universe could have done this, it would have been an all power being and the only being she knew with that much power was God. God, who was literally everything and nothing. God, who had a hand in everything, a reason for everything, even though she herself could never understand that reason, nor see the bigger picture, because she was simply incapable of seeing the happenings far, far away, unable to see those effects.

She had trusted Him then, while only a human. What difference was there now? She was still herself, as ignorant as a human, though her perspective of life had changed and her body was different.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself off the floor, her newfound faith giving her the strength to sit up against the wall. Her red optics took in the dark walls around her and she shuddered. Whatever compelled her to paint the walls black?

Ah yes, she was mourning.

She pushed that thought aside, retracing her thoughts until she found that nagging thought again.

Why wasn't she dead?

On one hand, she had been robbed of dying a martyr – which she didn't particularly see as any great loss. Dying was still dying no matter how the living looked at it. You either went to heaven or hell because God judged you go there, and she could never bring herself to believe that any act, last or not, could counter balance a lifetime of self-indulgence. She was cynical that way.

That said, she'd probably do it all over again. Again and again.

Not because of any great love of humanity, not because of her longstanding love of her twin, but because she couldn't stand the thought of people in pain, whether that be the last few hours of their lives or an eternity in hell. She could never be certain of her own success in life, but she would always be even less certain of everyone else's.

So, why wasn't she dead?

On another hand, she had been put here for a reason. She wasn't entirely sure what that reason was, but it was a reason and she was willing to cling to it.

It meant she had a purpose and that somewhere along the lines she was expected to do something.

Now was not a time for rest.

She stood up, turned her back on her quarters, and headed back to the Observation Deck. A nagging idea had built in her head, and she decided that it was time she started doing something that was more than just running around in the woods or on base, twiddling her thumbs. Time to make a move.

She sat down at the seat in front of the screen, where the underscore mark still bleeped away. She took a moment to get an idea of what she wanted to write in her head. Something that didn't begin with 'Dear Diary'.

_Let me recount the events I've experienced since the day I woke up on this ship and decided to redecorate it…_

0/0/0/0/0

It felt like she driving down the road, all by herself, for the very first time. It was like she taking a test and she didn't have to worry about whatever grade would come out because it was really pass or fail, and if you failed you died. No one would kill you but you.

Instead of feeling as if the world was crashing around her, she found herself being extremely relaxed. Her life was in her hands now, really and truly, and she was absolutely surprised at the trust she had for herself, even after all the times she had screwed up in the past.

Then again, when it came to getting people out alive, she was a determined, unstoppable war machine, an expert who never needed to even go to school.

The black and blue screen of death accepted her response with all the slowness of an old hundred pound computer, not giving a hint to the complicated program logic that had to process her words. A few minutes later, it openned a map of the ship – she recognized most of the lay out immediately – and directed her to a specific room on the ship, one that had been locked when she had first found it, before it merrily wished her a happy orn.

She didn't deign it with a response. Only insane or angry people did that, and, right now, she wasn't going down that road.

She marched right through the gates of hell and didn't flinch when they closed shut behind her. It didn't matter to her that she had taken that door panel apart and put it back together poorly, because at that moment her mind was preoccupied with something else entirely. The room before her mimicked the hallway she had left behind, except neon circles of every color coated the floor and floated up the walls, overlapping and shrinking as they climbed half-way to the ceiling. A massive berth sat to her left, strange see-through metal curtains hanging down from the cage top, like a royal bed for two. Somehow, in its own alien way, the room exuded a sexual atmosphere, promising pleasures beyond her wildest imaginings.

Her lips curled in disgust. She did not immediately approach the berth and the shadowy figure that sat on it. Her attention remained on the berth as she walked a half-circle around it, stopping in line of sight at the foot of the berth, where she could clearly see the giant currently taking up more than half the berth. There was room on both sides of him enough for one mech her size, and the connotations did not escape her.

"Did you expect me to just crawl up beside you," she sneered, glaring at him, "like some lost pup?"

The moment those words left her mouth, she noticed his yellow optics. Not red like her reflection in the hallway, not blue the body graying in some cave far away, but golden yellow. It brought her some small amount of reassurance.

It was the red Autobot insignia which looked entirely out of place, in this room, with its atmosphere trying to crawl through her like some nasty oil monster. She blanched, her optics turning white. He was either a very good Special Ops mech, simply because he was able to hide behind this door for so long without her noticing, or it was a very badly written personality program.

Given no indication that he understood her thoughts. He tilted his helm at her, face pinched into a confused frown. "Hm," he said, thinking as much as a program could. "You are a lot more mature than I expected."

She tilted her helm at him in confusion, subconsciously mimicking his movements, before dismissing the thoughts in her head. If he was designed as her babysitter, he would be able to recognize mental and physical maturity. Pressumptions aside. "Can you adjust?"

"Already have," he responded, slipping out of berth and standing, simultaneously giving the room a sweeping gesture. Not as simple a program as she thought with him being able to multitask so well. "Why do you think I rearranged your accommodations?"

" 'Accommodations'?" she echoed, suddenly wary. "What makes you think I would recharge here?"

"Because you aren't settled in," he said, posing that as more of a question and mocking personalities everywhere.

She almost snarled. "What gave you that impression?"

He gave her a look that made her cringe, and they both knew that she already knew the answer to that question. "Should I humor you?" he asked, almost blandly.

"That won't be necessary," she said, remembering her multiple faints in the hallways and her three separate sleeping quarters. "But that doesn't explain why you think I would recharge in here with you."

He frowned. "Who said you would have a choice?"

That rhetorical question sent alarms through her mind and she found herself glancing backwards at the door, only to doubletake. It had melded with the walls, much like Star Trek's holodeck when a program was up and running. Except, she knew she couldn't simply say 'End Program' or 'Pause Program' and expect the door to appear. She got the intense feeling that that was not purpose of this room.

"What's the theme of this program?" she asked, hesitantly, dreading the answer.

"To make sure you have learned the Lessons our Creator has programmed me to teach you," came the reply, and not the answer she was actually looking for.

"And the design of the room?" she asked, her annoyance evaporating into dread again.

"You will see," he responded, neutrally. "How have you enjoyed your stay so far?"

That dread still clung to her as she shifted in her spot, ignoring the impulse to race over to where the door was and check it over. It could still be there, but visibly covered by a hologram. In which case, it would be as simple as punching through the wall to get out. Albeit, if the holomech before her couldn't leave the room. The reminder of that feeling when she first entered the ship caused her to shudder. If he was a holomech at all.

"Who are you?" she demanded, not interested in dancing around with words.

"I am the Mentor," he supplied. "And you still haven't answered my question."

She decided to ignore its comment. "Who created you?"

"Ah-ah," he said, looking amused. "That's not how the game works."

"Game?" she asked, helm tilted, but when he remained silent she realized she was expected to answer her own question. She growled. "I have no time for Questions and Answers."

"You have more time than you think," he answered, not at all put off by her tone.

She wanted to growl, but decided against he. "Your question, then?"

"Oh please, don't make me repeat myself," he said, frowning.

"I'd have to say I haven't enjoyed my stay," she said, realizing he was true, for many reasons. She decided not to say any of them.

"Oh?" he said, and he seemed genuinely disappointed. "I hope you will enjoy your stay here, then."

She frowned, confused at its question. If she was anyone else, she probably would have thought; Haven't we just gone over this? But she was slightly smarter than that, and she noticed the context clues immediately. She took one glance around the room and came to a very gross understanding of the circumstances. "What?" she half-croaked, surprised that her vocoder had almost gone out.

He smiled. "If it pleases you," he spoke with charm and charisma that practically oozed out of its systems and pooled on the floor. She suddenly realized with horror that he had started to move closer to her and she was already pressed up against a wall. A wall that should be three more meters behind her.

"No," she stuttered, the verbal response leaving her before she could stop it. "I don't want to do this."

He already has its digits wrapped around her jaw and tilted her chin up for a kiss. She tried to jerk away but found herself pressed into the wall by a knee on her cod piece. Realizing too late that she was trapped, she found her vocoder trying to wrap itself around words.

"Why?" she managed to gasp out before her lips were claimed in an unwanted touch. Any pleasure she might have felt was smashed to pieces by the growing bile in her stomach long before he flickered across her vision.

He pulled back, obviously confused. "Motivation," he said simply.

She heard the heavy click before feeling the weight of the collar suddenly around her neck. She wiggled free and felt the paint on her codpiece scrap, jumping away from the it disguised as a he and found herself crouching, ready to spring out of reach again.

It-He- gave a small smile. He followed her at a leisurely pace, the pace of someone who knew that they had all the time in the world. His gaze was entirely calculating.

"You registered the Decepticon as a threat the moment you realized he was going to rape you," he said, matter-of-factly. "An appropriate response of self-defense for Lession Number Four, but I would rather we went through these in order instead of whenever the universe feels like he. Lesson Two will correct that error in judgment you made when you attacked."

" 'Error in judgment'?" she asked, befuddled and angry. "I don't call losing control an error in judgment."

He frowned, not liking the idea of being contradicted. "It is an error of self-judgment to think you did not have these defense programs. You were created by a Decepticon – naturally these programs would be hardwired into your processor."

This shocking news made her snap her jaw shut for only a half-second. Fury fluttered fire in her tanks. " 'Hardwired'?" As in _impossible to remove_?

"Yes," he said, simply, suddenly stopping to lean down and pick something off the floor. Chain clicked together, scraping across the floor as he raised it and her optics automatically followed it to its source. It felt heavy on her chassis as the collar turned, tugging against her hard set desire to stay where she was. He frowned.

"Don't fight this. You will need your valve stretched in case you actually do get raped."

She barked out a laugh. "You mean, if my programming doesn't slaughter them first."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "Have you even attempted to slaughter me yet?"

She halted, her face suddenly blank. Her tanks felt like they were crumpling up into flattened tin foil cans in her abdomen... er, her chest, almost exactly where her lungs would normally be.

The light tug on her chain made her tense and her attention suddenly refocused on the monster standing before her. "Mentor…" she began, grasping at straws. Her processor felt like a windstorm had taken all her senses and thrown them everywhere. "…how do you even do the do?"

"I will show you," he said, simply, giving no indication that he found her lack of knowledge problematic. "And teach you as we go along."

She shuddered, cringing at that thought. "I don't want to do this."

"You've said that," he said, looking momentarily distraught. If machines that were merely A.I. and not sparked could be distraught. "It will be much more fun for you if you were willing."

"I need time," she argued, terrified. "More time than just a few minutes, maybe even a few days."

"We can take it slow," he agreed.

He wasn't getting it, she realized with a sinking sensation and a growing acceptance. No one was coming for her, even if she was yelling. Might as well get something out of it, even it was a physical humiliation and education all rolled into one.

"But," he suddenly said, tugging much more harshly on her chain and she found herself pressed up against a Praxian-style chest. She immediately noticed his wings, stiff and yet relaxed behind him. Emotionless, and that unsettled her as she looked up into his golden yellow gaze. "It would defeat the purpose of the program to go too slowly. I have selected the rapist program which will prevent you from getting too hurt. However, there is a forty-five-point-two percent probability that you will suffer some psychological damage, beyond the normal humilation and shame."

She tried to jerk away, but herself pinned to him. She was suddenly very aware of the fact he was wider than she was and much stronger.

"What?" she asked, distraught. "Is this what your creator programmed you to do?"

His gaze suddenly became steely. "This is what _your_ creator programmed me to do."

She felt herself suddenly turn cold at the designation that popped into her mind. A face as familiar to her as her own twin's.

"Maelstrom?" she asked, not able to connect the sweet father she had known as a human with the monster who now stood before her.

She was silenced with a rough kiss, as he bit down on her lips with what could only be described as a loving kiss. He didn't allow her much time to vent before he was kissing her again, pulling her against his body in the universal claim of bodily possession reserved for mates. She tried to push him away, but discovered quickly that he was made of something far more sterner than Cybertronium, and even his neck was like touching a statue's. A warm statue, but he was nothing more than a statue. That thought alone promised that this would be _not fun_ regardless of what he claimed.

He pulled away, and she realized that he had been distracting her from something far more important. He placed her on top of the bed, which gave beneath her back as she was forced to lay down. The sudden feeling of tipping backwards caused her to reach out for something to grab, and she found herself grabbing at the cast iron mech before her.

"What are you-? I thought you said you were taking it slow!?" she half-shrieked.

"For now," he said, thought whether it was supposed to be reassurance or not was questionable.

She took it for the later. Scrambling out of his grip, she quickly found herself trapped by the chain around her neck. It tangled around her foot and she quickly found herself dragged backwards. His servo landed on her aft.

"I'm a virgin!" she blurted, before cringing. He seemed to contemplate this for a second before dismissing her words, caressing her aft with adventurous digits, dipping in between the cracks between her thigh and aft and caressing the tight tangle of sensitive wires there.

"You're so beautiful, y'know," he purred, his voicing surprisingly soothing and gentle, accentuated by his hot touch.

"You should get to know me better," she snapped, trying to wiggle away which his fingers prevented her from moving her leg joints. "Bags over my helm are the least of your problem!"

"Fiesty, too."

She found herself suddenly smashed into the soft berth bedding underneath his body, the soft touch of kisses on her helm and upper back trying to force the reality around her on her frazzled mind. She wanted to cry 'no' but it was muffled and he didn't lift her head out of the bedding long enough for her to make a statement. He twisted the chain in his grip and pulled on it so his glossa could reach under it, dipping into wires and causing her neural system to go haywire.

He went slowly, and kept going for a very long time, and all it did was flame the feeling of dread in her tanks, even as he decided to go faster.

0/0/0/0/0

She couldn't recall exactly when everything had started, or when it took a turn. It went far faster and yet far slower than she could have ever wanted. Humiliation could not accurately describe the shame of her virginity being torn from her, after she had been tied. Her arms were chained to her front, her pedes to her aft, and it was extremely uncomfortable and restricting, which only made it all the worse.

His spike was huge and, despite what she was really feeling on the inside, her body had been more than ready to take him in. Her body had betrayed her, and she was left feeling utterly horrified and broken because of it. What burned her worse was the gentle reminder of his sweet breath on her audios, asking her if she wanted more and the horrible sound of her own voice asking for him to take her.

Harder, faster, and thicker.

That last option had been somewhat of a new concept all around. He was a holomech, and like every other holomech he could make his spike bigger, longer or rougher. The control over the choice selections – after she had come to the realization that she could not ever say no to any of them – gave her some consolation over the simple fact that she didn't want this in the first place. Her virginity was gone, and she had not wanted to give it to this mech.

She had plans to wait for the perfect mech, to marry him or bond with him, and have an everlasting partnership with him. A part of that was ruined now. She had nothing to give him anymore. She was, in essance, a whore. And that was shameful even if it wasn't true.

He had walked away a while ago, most likely to let her rest and deal with the shame on her own. That was the difference between a husband and a rapist – she decided, – a husband who really cared for you would stay all night with you and help you carry your newfound shame. She wanted a husband, not a one night stand. And now, she felt disgusted with herself for even contemplating either. What man would, in his right mind, take her in?

She moaned around the metal fabric in her mouth. Somewhere in the middle of all that, she'd begun pleading for more. Bigger, longer, rougher – everything she could ever fantisize in a mech had fallen from her mouth in a moment of utter weakness. She felt disgust with herself, and a burning shame at that.

He had entered her, and it had hurt so much that she was pretty sure she was bleeding. He was simply _too_ big, and it had felt as if he was tearing her apart, albiet slowly and as gently as possible. Her seal had ripped, and she found her valve expanding to the challenge of his spike. And then it felt like he had exploded _inside_ of her. She had lost all senses and awareness after that, her body floating away from her into the mists of her mind as she found herself slowly calming down.

She twitched as she felt a servo on her throat, pressing lightly against that collar as it pulled the gag out of her mouth. Her optics blinked on, memorizing the fuzzy image of the mech putting the stained gag in his mouth. That sucking sound made her moan a little bit. Something pressed against the inside of her and she twitched and groaned in pain as he pushed the gag into her valve. Yes, she realized, she was bleeding down there and there was a lot of transfluid mixed in as well.

"Hmmm," he said, drawing her attention from her own little world. "A good start," he said, before sucking on the digits of the servo that had held the gag. His other servo rested on her hips, thumb pressing almost lovingly into her valve. "You stretched nicely."

Her only answer was a moan. He rolled off her, pushing aside the curtains and pausing to let cool air through. She moaned, her optics struggling to find some color as she focused on him and the much needed air rolling over her overheated body.

"What-?"

The curtain fell back and the shadow of the mech disappeared, leaving her feeling strangely abandoned and alone. Vulnerable. The resulting emotions caused her to whine, but she couldn't move. She was left to wind down and gather her thoughts.

There was something she was missing here. Why was he doing this? He had been vague on that. She twitched, looking towards where he had disappeared. The mech's shadow hadn't appeared again. She knew without a doubt he would be back, and it filled her with a sense of numb dread.

She decided to relax and absorb the slowly returning feeling of normalcy. She licked her lips, feeling her own oral fluids turn her malleable lips wet. Her hot frame turned icy cold really quickly, and that made her shift uncomfortably and give out soft pained moans when her valve gag was disturbed. Hot on the inside, icy cold on the outside. It was not fun and how could every woman in the world stand it was beyond her.

"Why are you doing this?" she managed to grit out, her systems panting and shivering at the same time.

"To prepare you for this eventuality," he said with the patience of a very old and wise teacher. He had suddenly appeared at the entrance, his golden and yellow optics gentled.

"That isn't the only reason," she scoffed. Whether it was the fact that she had finally caved in to accept her new position, no matter how temporary it was, in life or the simple fact that she always found clarity while in pain for some reason.

"You are right," he admitted. "But are you sure you are prepared to accept what I'm about to say?"

Her optics narrowed. "You just raped me. I deserve more than just pleasantries."

"You could have fooled me," he began, probably intending to follow up with a soul sucking speech on how she had enjoyed it. She cut him off.

"Don't. You want to break my mind then go right ahead, but if you don't then don't say another word about _that_."

That shut him up. She realized that, for once, she was absolutely right. A first for her, but she knew better than to dwell on it. "Now, tell me what your purpose as my 'Mentor' is. The purpose my… creator had intended."

"Lesson One: Escaping," he said, before frowning in disappointment. "You were doing so well before today."

"Don't," she warned. Her vocalizer had gone soft. "Escaping how?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Her optics narrowed. "So, I have something that can make escaping possible."

He frowned, but didn't comment on it.

"You're just not allowed to say."

He sighed. "Can we get on with it?"

She found herself staring at him blankly. " 'Get on with it'?" she echoed, her expression much like a deer in the headlights.

"It is rumored that females can go on for a long time, even though it is healthier to take breaks."

"If the male can do it," she added, wanting to get her two cents in there because she knew she was about to be in a whole lot more trouble than she was before. Which meant she had to escape soon, or else risk getting stuck pleasuring the unpleasureable mech for all eternity.

Which meant somehow getting out of these binds. She wasn't an escape artist, which made her job nearly impossible.

Impossible. Just impossible. No 'nearly' about it.

But a device capable of her letting her escape? That was a whole other story. But the last time she had activated something, it had been on accident, when she was motivated to feel freedom and-

And-

Something had clicked in her mind and she found herself frowning at the holomech that was touching her thighs and trying to position his lips over her hurting valve. His glossa flickered out, shooting warmth up her sensitive wires and reminding her once again where she was.

"Motivation," she said.

"Hm?" he asked, tilting his helm at her momentarily before dismissing her comment. His glossa flickered out again, pressing aside soft metals and diving in to touch sensitive walls of cables. She twitched, but didn't moan. She had regained control over herself from when she relaxed.

She had to escape now more than ever, just to prevent her carefully cultivated self-confidence from shattering before this mech. Or worse, her turning into one of those victims-turned-sympathizers by something as ridiculous as the Stockholm Syndrome.

If this didn't develop into some twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome, she would be more than a little surprised. Scratch that, any form of Stockholm Syndrome was twisted.

Grasping that scary and most likely furture, she forced her mind to turn inward and find that whatever-it-was that the mech thought would help her escape. Her self-diagnostic systems ran over every system she had.

She yelped at the sudden pain her seal was irritated. She focused on the holo-mech only realize that he hadn't done that to get her attention. His brows were knotted in concentration as he fingered her valve gently, much in the same way he had started out. She quickly blocked him out, returning her attention to her internal diagnostic listings.

_Energon Tanks_

_Armor Plating: Torso_

_Armor Plating: Abdomen_

_Armor Plating: Right Forearm_

_Armor Plating: Left Forearm_

She skimmed through most of them, including one labeled 'Processing Component 1'. Her search was interrupted by a painful energy spike from her valve as it was stretched again, but it didn't hurt as much as the first time. She tried to glance over the height of her chest, but couldn't, and dismissed the mech between her legs. He hadn't entered her with his spike since there was no sensual sensations, which meant she was fine.

For now.

_Missile Launchers: Currently Unable to Active; Suggest Change Alt. Modes_

_SZ Phase Shifters: Inactive._

_Defense Programming: On Standby._

_Portable Shield: Functioning; On Standby._

"You're ready."

It was as if the mech had read her thoughts, saw the one thing that could allow her to escape, and had decided now was the time to distract her. He pulled the whatever-it-was out of her and put it aside, gently teasing a digit in its place. She twisted away, or tried to, growling. He simply wrapped his hands around her stomach and pulled her up to his chest, balancing on her knees.

"Smile for the cameras, sister," the faux Autobot said. "And relax."

That one word suddenly clicked into her mind with the weight of a sledgehammer, but she was unable to continue along that thought path as pain and pleasure swept all thoughts away. She growled, tried to move her legs but only succeeding in shifting herself on his big spike. She shuddered at the unwanted sensations sending chills up her spine. He settled her helm against his chest, letting her own weight slowly settle her on the full length of his spike. His fingers pinched along her doorwings, using their sensitivity to her disadvantage, and she couldn't control her back from arching into his chest.

"St-stop," she whined, but a digit quickly shut her up.

"Don't make me gag you again, sister," he warned, pulling his digit out again and gripping her aft to pull her up off his spike.

"E-e-ven if I-I a-ask for m-more?" she stuttered.

"Especially if you do that," he growled.

That didn't make any sense. She struggled to piece thoughts together as her mind became foggy with pain.

"Wh-why?"

He stopped, holding her up. She felt his spike, slick and glowing blue beneath her, that light reflecting off the armor in front of her. She shifted to get a look at his face, and saw him contemplating something.

"You are not supposed to enjoy this," he said finally, "but it doesn't matter if you don't either. I will resort to other means to teach you this lesson."

She shivered at his tone and found any protest she might have silenced by a sharp kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, and she tried to claw him away, but only succeeded in claw his grill, which rumbled from his engine. He was powerful, more powerful than she and she knew. He entered her again, forcing her back down to the hilt. She made a noise but it was muffled by his lips.

All early thought processes had raced out the window on the second burning pump. This was embarrassing, painful and entirely too real to be simply a hologram. It hurt, it was humiliating, and that comment about the cameras only made her burn more. She just wanted to melt into the floor or wiggle free. He lifted her, and she felt his pistons and their strength and almost cried at what she knew was coming. He came harder and faster, each time and it physically hurt less and less – but affected her more and more.

Remember that pain gave her clarity? Her mind jumped back to a few seconds earlier, before her thoughts had been interrupted. What was that phase shifter? She desperately searched it out with her mind.

Her body arched and she cried out at yet another deep thrust, he shifted before lifting her off again – roughly stroking those nodes so deep inside of her. She twisted and arched and gave muffled cries into his unforgiving tongue as it washed over her sharp teeth. Digits dug into her back plating, roughly handling her legs as she shifted and moved on top of his member.

In a moment which she could prehaps never repeat again, her mind hooked around that distant device – that Phase Shifter – inside of her, and she found herself clutching it with her mind and plunging it into activation. It threw up questions at her, asking her if she only wanted part of herself to phase shift – but she quickly pushed passed all that to activate the whole thing.

And suddenly, she couldn't feel his touch anymore. She couldn't even feel the cables around her or the collar choking her, and she suddenly hit floor. She lay flat out, utterly free and feeling extremely hot, lying where all the cold air had settled against the cold floor. Gasping, she tried to pull herself forward only to discover that the berth that had been above her was gone and that the mech who was nothing more than a program was standing beside her.

"Not bad," he said. When she looked up hoping to see something comforting, she saw that he was back in full armor, no member visible, but that only made her suddenly aware of her own nakedness. "I suppose you could do with a small break."

That last comment made her relieved, until he stepped forward and reclamped the collar around her neck. Her digits wrapped around it in shock.

"Later. We have only just begun."

She ripped it away this time, her phase shifter causing her neck to become intangible, and she sent it skittering across the floor, much to the hologram's… displeasure? His expression was as nonchalant as could be.

Surprisingly, her helm did not crash to the floor the moment the neck became intangible. Science could be worked out later though.

"No," she said, almost quietly.

"What?" he said, looking suddenly angry. He was huge, she remembered, and from her spot crouching on the floor, she saw someone much bigger and more dangerous than the mech who had gently raped her moments before.

And, suddenly, she didn't care. "No," she said, more firmly and loudly. "I'm not your plaything."

"That wasn't what you were saying a few breems ago."

The embarrassment curdled into something bitter. She told him, expressly, never to say that and he just did. He was worse than slime and she found herself giving him a cruel smile. "That's because you are _my_ plaything. I made you think I wanted it."

His mouth openned in a retort, but no sound came out. He shut his lips and scolded, before smiling, teeth gritting together.

"You're_ my_ plaything, runt," he growled, leaping forward. "I'm not done with you yet."

She yelped and leaped aside, activating her Phase Shifter without any real thought and watched with some small sense of satisfaction and no small amount of surpise as his servos went through her. He stumbled, catching himself before turning on her again. She had already made a break for the door – or at least, where the door should have been. It was still there only covered up by a hologram, or so she kept telling herself.

So, she ran through the wall… and kept right on running. She didn't stop because she couldn't process the images dancing across her processor, and what meant she couldn't go any further. Suddenly, the walls of black and grey turned in oceanic blacks and blue-greys, and she realized belatedly that she had run right past the ship's hull and out into open water. She floundered, her phase shifter panicked and shut off, and she found herself quickly catching up to gravity as she fell. Floresent glowing moss broke her fall and she made a very strange whoosh noise as she hit, sending shredded moss everywhere. She rolled back up into a fighter's stance, staring back at the ship in incredulance.

It looked strange from this angle, she noted with bemusement, numbed with shock. She saw the Observation Deck, bulging at the front and looking out across deep water, with its aft stuck beneath a massive cliff. It made her wonder, for a brief, ludicrous moment, how it end up stuck like that.

She shook herself, remembering her lack of armor and not wanting to be caught dead, naked, out in open water. She swam (read: walked) the whole distance towards the Deck and used her phase shifter to leap inside, taking a little bit of sea water with her. She hit the metal hard and rolled, springing to her pedes and letting out a startled bleep.

The holomech stood with his arms folded over his chest, his expression unreadable.

"Congratulations, sister," he said evenly. "You passed Lesson One." He moved to walk out the door, but halted. "When you next come down to get your armor, we can begin Lesson Two."

At the mention of her armor, her servo tenderly touch her valve, and she moaned. Not _another_ 'Lesson'.

0/0/0/0/0


	5. Genesis: The Killjoy

**Unless otherwise stated, all Cybertronians will be speaking Cybertronian.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Just my OCs.**

**Warning: Twincest? If you squint _really really_ hard? Also, swearing, sexual themes, and mental unstablility. **

**EDIT: Originally, I had no plans to edit this. But then I realized I didn't do Reverb any real justice. His back story was a slap together mess that really needed fixing. I revised his whole backstory, made him a much more believeable character and also made it much less contrived. I change a lot about this chapter, among them are Reverb's new romantic flings and his growing hatred of Allout. Also, Vibe took a backseat to most of the drama, thank goodness. Also, I am proud to say this chapter has increased from 4,972 to 9,848 words. Oh yeah.  
**

**EDIT DATE: 9.17.14**

0/0/0/0/0

**Torn**

_"Sometimes we don't meet our heroes until it's already too late. Sometimes… we have to become the hero. And it always tears us apart." _

_~ Anonymous..._

0/0/0/0/0

**Genesis**

**Chapter 4**

_The Killjoy_

0/0/0/0/0

Everything felt cold. As cold as the optics of the mech and as cold as his touch. She shuddered, chilled striaght to the core. She felt as if she would shake apart, she was trembling so much and hugging herself was not stopping it.

She had never felt so weak and vulnerable before, and she found it to be more embarrassing than she could stomach. Even thinking about the mech she had killed made her want to purge, which only proved to her exactly how bad off she really was. Not that she shouldn't have purged the moment she killed him.

That's what she thought about what had happened earlier. It wasn't just that something had taken control of her and killed someone she barely even knew. It was that up until now she hadn't actually started to wrap her mind around it. Even the mental breakdown had only fractured some other part of her mind – reminding her that she was alone. Utterly alone.

The shock had taken hold of her senses and prevented her from accepting it. And now, she kept telling herself that she should have been able to save him, that she should have been able to prevent everything from happening in the first place, that she should have known and corrected the error in programming before anything like this could have happened.

Her mind was whirlwind of twisting emotions as she tried to solve two emotional problems all at once. Too much had happened in one day.

_You've gotta pull yourself together,_ she said to herself, a spike of anger momentarily quieting the waging war in her head. She felt it, white-hot, a flash of hot blue behind her offlined optics. She didn't want to move, couldn't move, as if someone had put bricks on her body and it was only now, in the brimming surge of anger, that she recognized how low she had truly sunken. Her burning desire to _keep moving_ was making her extremely aware of it.

A stray thought whispered across her mentality. _Perhaps this is why they called you…_

No. Erase that thought. Purge it from her memory banks. She must forget that name.

She wasn't that innocent little girl anymore. Things had changed. _She_ had changed.

She had _lost_ control.

_No…_

Her mind flashbacked to a different time, when she standing out in sun, feeling depressed that her dog had run away. He had never liked her. He had abandoned her. And if a dog could abandon her so easily what about-

_No!_

_I was never in control to begin with._

That thought struck her to her entire core. She collapsed, thudding into the seabed, no longer shuddering at the biting cold that had gripped her to the core. The urge to cry came and left quickly, sinking into something colder and darker that she could not accurately describe. She wanted to sink into the seabed, disappear into the waves, crawl under some rock and just lay down and _die_. What did she have left to live for? She had _no one_.

No one would care if she disappeared into oblivion right here and now. No one would try to stop her. She would be gone, no worries about what is really right in the world and what is wrong because she'd be dead and have all her answers and suitable punishments for all her crimes. She'd deserve it, too.

_Except you're not going to kill yourself, are you?_

_You've always lacked conviction, haven't you? _

_It's why you couldn't kill yourself before and why you can't kill yourself now._

She let out a sigh. She was worse than scum – she was _living_ scum. Scum without a purpose. And what purpose could there be for herself, anyhow? All she could do was live just to spite the world.

_Glowing yellow angry eyes, beams of light, glared at her from a rainy night._

Her digits clawed into the seabed. Is that all her purpose was? To save others?

She couldn't just live on spite alone, but was spite was all she had. Spite and self-sacrifice. Her passion for saving others seemed like a long ways off from where she sat. She couldn't bring herself to even consider the fact that she could find love. It just wasn't possible; it seemed a million miles away. There was nothing waiting for her. No goals she could grasp that would inevitably be taken out of her reach.

Nowhere was safe.

She almost cracked a smile at that last statement, but it turned into a quirked lip corner that could have been a frown or a smirk. No place was ever safe, regardless. In a strange twisted way, everything was exactly how it should be and exactly how it was. There were ups and downs, people in charge and people who lost control. It's only those who could get up afterwards that could really be considered strong.

She did it long ago, but she was a kid then. Could she do it now?

_Apparently… _because she wasn't dead yet.

She looked up, and actually took in the refracted sights above water. The sun was setting. The forest had turned dark.

She didn't think about waiting for nightfall, she simply sat back and did. Her mind had ground to a halt.

When darkness finally fell over everything, she found herself moving out of the water and onto shore. She didn't feel anything, no drive or passion over some new awe inspiring purpose. She felt tired and boneweary, as if she had been fighting a battle her whole life and only now realized that she couldn't win. A part of her had died and given up and it just really wanted to die in some dark corner of the universe and be forgotten, if not for that smaller part of her that wanted to live. She was otherwise still in shock, struggling to put two ideas together into single sentence, while a third part of her mocked from a distance, telling her she was weak for being unable to string a whole sentence together.

She didn't rise to the bait and mentally shook herself. A steely calm settled over her as she rose onto her pedes. Her mind raced as memories raced across her vision, unleashing a torrent of warm and cold emotions through her entire body. Confidence, strength, power, echoed the breath of every word going through her mind.

_You're stronger than this. _

_You're no quiter. _

_You're just a girl, with a hero complex and an ability to get it done and get it done right._

_You save lives. You do it without thinking of yourself. _

_And if this was going to stop you, you'd already be dead by now._

Her optics flickered and narrowed into slits. She didn't flinched at the next words going through her mind. Her blade was in her hand before she could stop it, and she absently admired the blue glow as her thoughts turned elsewhere.

_You are never satisfied with your own performance. You get stronger, better, and faster._

_And every man, woman and child who has ever lived and harmed another should fear you._

_Because you never stop._

_And even it isn't true for yesterday, you can make it true for tomorrow._

_You are in control of your choices. _

_That makes you the strongest._

She lowered the blade and looked out over the forest, remembering for a brief moment the mech she had met in the forest. His savage predatory gaze and his now greying corpse. Remembering him reminded her yet other things. There was a cave not that far from here, with a body that she could salvage armor from.

And she was also naked. Or the equivolent thereof.

She sneered and glared at the forest, daring any transformer to come out and just try to take advantage of her. She would ruin their pleasure within seconds, kill them like she had killed the Decepticon.

Her legs were trembling from her exhausting emotions, but she locked her knees and forced herself to stand straight.

She had just learned she had a unique ability, one that could probably cut her walking time in half. She could walk through the trees, like some dark phantom of the forest. That thought actually got her to smile.

_They _should_ fear me._

_I am a lot like a phantom. I died in order to gain this new body and now I can walk through walls like a phantom. _

_But 'Phantom' isn't a good designation, is it? _

The forest blurred by as dark straight shapes in the dusk, their darker canopies blocking out what little light could be seen from high in the sky. She made no noise on the grassy turf, and felt the smallest amount of pleasure from slinking through the shadows like a silent predator. She had power now.

_I don't _need_ any friends._

That last thought stopped her, and she found herself staring around herself in silence. The world turned an ashy color as her phase shifter powered on, as all the color was sucked out of the world. Shadows deepened and darkened, transforming from playful shades, from sinister almost black silhouettes to dead and harmless dark grey in less than a second. She felt untouchable, unreachable, standing and basking in a world comprised of nothing but white and shadows.

It was her world, her domain, and she felt something swell inside her chest. It wasn't pride, but a sense of feeling honored to have this world all to herself. It brought comfort to her and she found herself relaxing as she continued her walk.

The alcove openned up before her, a dark crack cutting through the grey cliff-face. She stared up at the grey slanted walls as she moved closer, marveling at their colorlessness and their sheer size. She held out a hand through the crack, pushing her shoulder through the crack before realizing that her armor could phase through the rock. Snorting, she quirked a lip corner.

_Just like the trees._

She slipped inside and adjusted her optics to the dim light. A familiar grey body lay awkwardly to her left, exactly where she had left him. His face lay exposed, his last moments of confusion etched on his face. Her servos stretched out to roll him over, but she merely phased through his physical form. She blinked at it in confusion for a few seconds before remembering that her phase shifter was still online. Sighing, she turned off her phase shifter, refreshing her optics as the world was restored to its colorful glory. The purple insignia returns to its normal stale, paint color, but the rest remained the same dull grey.

She felt shaken to the core as she handled his body, a slight tremble going throughout all her limbs. Her lips curled into a disgusted grimace, but she shook herself and returned to her chore rolling the mech over so that she could see the insignia on his chest, Decepticon-shaped and shoddily done.

_Probably done to himself. A willing participant in the Decepticon fight for dominance._

A sigh escaped her and she relaxed against the walls, wrapping her arms around her thighs and pulling her legs close to her chest. Her glowering red optics landed on the greyed out husk at her pedes. Even in death, he had the shape of most mechs, the broad shoulders, thick arms and legs, and squarish face of intimidation incarnate.

_What had he been doing out in the forest, anyway? _

_Besides wearing that fake Decepticon insignia and going after the first carrier on sight_, she added grimly.

She looked over the dead mech and finally tore her gaze away, finding some much more interesting bump in the cave wall. Her processor went elsewhere, back to her human life. She had never truly started to think about her situation before, how much she knew about the transformer world and how she should be comparing it to the world around her. Then again, the world around her was much different from any transformer world she could remember from her time as a human. Nothing around her screamed she was in a cartoon show or some contrived comicbook plot that was meant to keep it going for another few volumes.

Everything _looked_ normal. Real, almost, which didn't do anything for her doubts about her human life. How could something so real be nothing more than a dream? She couldn't be dream now, and she couldn't have been dreaming then, but how else does anyone explain waking up as a transformer after death? Her human life had to be a simulation. There was no other conclusions to make, no Primus taking a few hours off sitting on his pedistal just to say that "I granted your wish. Be happy now."

Nothing was making any sense.

And the only mechs who had answers were either dead or had it out for her. Both had attempted to rape her, one succeeded and the other lost his life. This could mean a very bad future was waiting for her on the planet. Hostiles could be around any corner.

Her optics drifted towards the dead body, silently processing his still form. He knew what was waiting for her on this planet, though she doubted she could get any information from him. He was dead and not liable to chat her up anytime soon.

She pressed her hands to her face. She regretted killing him, but she had no more control over his death than the holomech who had rapped her. Everything was out of her hands, out of her control, and she felt lost and confused. She couldn't just pick up the phone and call her mother and ask her how does she get of this situation now? Everything spiralled out of her control the moment she woke up, if anything had been in her control to begin with.

An exhasperated vent escaped her, and she rubbed her servo across her face until it rested beneath an optic, allowing her to stare at the body. The silence stretched on and she shifted uncomfortably, tensing at the unfamiliar sound of metal scrapping against rock. Her gaze slowly absorbed the whole cave, the small crack in the far wall. She looked back down at the Decepticon, or whatever he was. Her digits pulled at metal around his neck, not yet brave enough to start invading beneath his armor plating without permission… oh, what the heck.

Her digits slipped beneath his neck line and tugged at armor, pushing aside cables with all the gentleness of a careless invader. She had shaken off her trepidation like she had once shaken off her armor; there were more important things she needed to concern herself over than the dignity of a dead Decepticon such as who on the planet might kill her. He had no dataports around her neck, and she quickly shifted her attention to all the other places that many fanfiction writers had hypothesized might hold neural ports; front of the neck, back of the neck, back of the helm, even on his chest, but there was nothing to indicate any ports there. The last places she had left to look were his wrists and his crotch plating, but she would never touch there on any mech. Given them the satisfaction of her touch, dead or alive? She would rather fall on her own hunting knife than succumb to such lowly acts. _She_ was no pleasure bot.

She practically ripped the mech's wrist armor aside, and metal snapping loudly caused her to pause. Her optics flickered around self-consciously, registering that she was in fact still alone. The broken armor piece shook in her tight grip, brittle in post mortem.

Her gaze slid to the mech's face, as if he was still alive watching her, but his empty blue optics only caused her to become even more uncomfortable. Her gaze turned downwards, and she fingered the metal in her grasp as her other servo turned the arm over. A dataport lay open before her and she found the sight of its dark hole extremely perplexing and uncomfortable. To peer into the mind of a mech who was already dead; how low could she go?

She shook herself. She needed to know, because she needed to be able to prepare and survive it. Nothing else mattered.

A similar dataport was on her wrist and she immediately went to work to activating it, and pressing the rim against the dead mech's own port. She shuddered as her own cables slid into the wrist, cold and unmoving.

Her mind was suddenly invaded with a cold, dead presence, like something which had once been alive now stiff and unmoving in death had perched on the edge of her mind like some horrible gargoyle. She shuddered, but shook her thoughts and feelings on the matter aside, pressing her consciousness into the coldness and clawing through the stone-like mind to it's memory core.

She immediately noticed the one thing that remained alive inside the mech; his personality component flickered while it rested on stand-by, waiting for a medic that would never come. She shuddered, disgusted with herself. He was alive, somehow, buried beneath layers of inactive mech, and her intrusion was more than likely unwelcome. She was taking advantage of his state, just as the holomech had taken advantage of their size difference.

If she had known that, in modern Cybertronian sciences, he was already doomed she would not have been so inclined to wallow in the possibility that he could be saved. She had murdered him in cold blood, ended his life for no other reason than she had a hunch he would kill her.

But Killjoy had distanced herself from coming to any conclusions, her mind focused purely on facts, memories and anything else that would be of value to her inquiry. She would soon realize that she had found much more than she bargained for.

0/0/0/0/0

His name was Reverb. Beyond his simple and rather pathetic life as a neutral pleasure bot, he was an Decepticon activist. That was all she really needed to know about him, because that entire sentence had made her mind go from worrying over his personal space to being disgusted at his entire person. He was the lowliest of the low who enjoyed his own lifestyle and the femme's he laid because of it, happy to cause misery to those, like her, who would look down upon him and his profession. To put it in another way, the Autobots hated him, and he hated them in return. This mixed up relationship, however, did not stop females from joining him in the berth. The war was so bad that even those with the strongest and firmest of principles could cave to the promise of some small pleasure in this hour of darkness. Reverb quickly learned that the high and mighty Autobots were are spineless as most of the neutrals, unable to stand firm in their beliefs and easily caving beneath his digits tips and his hungry spike. It took so much self-control not take advantage of them when they flocked to his door; the only thing stopping him was the ever present threat of death hanging over his helm if the "Decepticon sympathizer" should ever step too far out of line.

The only reason Reverb hadn't completely jumped the fence and joined the Decepticons was for two reasons: one, he knew from rumors that the Decepticons only accepted soldiers and scientists into their fold and he would have to actually do something the moment he joined; and two, the love of his life and the energon in his fuel pump was not anywhere near the Decepticon front lines, but playing patty-cake with the Autobot's own third-in-command. In short, his life as a Neutral and Autobot pleasure bot continued on ad infinitum simply because he had one very good reason for not joining either side of the war.

She was beautiful, fragile as any other femme frame could be but hiding underneath a firecracker and fierce personality. Her entire life revolved around the Autobot cause and the Autobot's Third-in-Command, the notorious Jazz and head of Autobot special ops. Naturally, Reverb couldn't exactly kill his competition and hope for the best; Jazz was impossible to kill with Reverb's level of skill and Vibe would quickly discover him, as most Special Ops Agents tend to do.

Or he assumed she was special ops. Autobot Agents didn't exactly run around with badges claiming they were a part of that division. Besides the obvious ones, most of the Autobot agents were like smoke on the wind; one second you thought they were there being all Agenty and the next they were someone else and you had no idea if they stood right next to you. They were hard to pin down, tricky, and bad for someone as reputedly "sympathetic" as Reverb.

He had tried and failed (read: done nothing) to change his luck in life and so he was stuck on the sidelines watching his future bonded play to the fancy of a mech who didn't deserve her.

He would have given up his plans altogether had it not been for the arrival of Darklight.

The gold-opticed, black mech moved with the fluidity and grace that Reverb could only dream of, the same fluidity and grace that Jazz and Vibe had in spades. Reverb noticed right off that Darklight was more than just another neutral seeking shelter from Decepticon attacks, just as, unfortunately for Reverb, Allout did. The neutral leader stupidly decided to bond with the charismatic and powerful shortly after he arrived and joined her neutral crew. Reverb tried to keep his frustration from showing, furious that his one shot at defeating Jazz would slip away so easily.

Except it hadn't.

It happened one day when no one was looking, on that day that Darklight would leave, dropping off the map like a ghost, before appearing one orn during one of Reverb's session hours. Reverb's business had plummeted and his entertainment had disappeared down the drain along with his patience. The Autobot's rumors of his sympathetic relationship with Decepticons had caused more than half the neutrals to ostricise him, leaving him to seek out entertainment instead of the otherway around. With the war growing exponentially, more and more were trying to get into the Autobot's favor and avoiding his doorstep. Used to be that they would be begging to take his spike right between their thighs, and he would be more than happy to tease the whole night away, one customer at a time. At this rate, he was planning to just give up and go join the cons and end it right here.

But Darklight surprised him. The charismatic mech had given him that smile that was more of smirk, had teased him with promises of more than just a very good night, with touches that set his whole body aflame like it never had before, but also a very good future, one he had been hoping for ever since he landed in the middle of this Autobot-protected Neutral camp. Darklight might not have been Vibe, but Reverb was more than willing to accept the mech into his berth for another go round. It was fun and interesting to finally have a berth partner who wasn't abandoning him just to keep his reputation and who wasn't a female with a valve. That last bit had made the experience all the more interesting. Reverb had never taken a male with a pleasure valve before.

Darklight had his secrets, and he wasn't as social as Jazz. He kept to himself most of the time, disappearing for hours on end to Primus-knows-where. Every single time, he showed up at Reverb's doorstep, teasing him into hours of more pleasure, sometimes getting Reverb to overload and other times purposefully leaving him unsatisfied so Reverb had to beg for more. Those nights were the most interesting, because Darklight always wiggled out some promise to Reverb that he was more than happy to follow through with – just for another night of perfectly satisfying rewards.

Reverb didn't care that Darklight never publically visited him; the nights were well worth anything. But he found himself repurposing his life during the day, taking his old flames and lovers in the Neutral camp for a spin as he convinced them to help web a few new rumors into the old grapevine. Needed some Autobot's reputation tarnished? Insinuate they'd once had a night with the infamous Reverb. Those few rumors that were true called everyone to believe that those that actually _weren't_ were true, too. The deception was made doubly sweeter with every night Darklight visited him.

It paid to have a lover who was also rumored to be bonded to the Neutral leader. Allout never once questioned Darklight, so devoted to this mech and in love with his gorgeous gold optics and perhaps even with his ways in the berth (Reverb was already worshiping the mech's spike, and he could only imagine what a female with a real valve could feel). While Allout went to meetings with the Autobots, Darklight was dragged along like a loyal dog to witness the proceedings. Every meeting never turned out the way Darklight wanted it – Reverb knew because the mech would confide in him and pound some of that frustration into Reverb's pleasure valve.

It was when Darklight started trash talking the Autobots, Jazz specifically, when Reverb found himself with what he had never had from the moment he arrived at Iacon – a friend. The rewards of pleasure developed into something more, not like the hard and serious relationship Reverb thought that Allout had with Darklight, but a relationship that was more than Reverb was used to with his customers. Dare he say lover? He wouldn't be the first male to fall for another male, but it was certainly something new. Certainly something most Cybertronians would consider evolutionarily entirely unbeneficial. He had to agree with that last point, but it was his life, slaggit, and he _loved_ those nights.

But he never forgot Vibe. He had something to preoccupy his thoughts of Vibe, but the moment Darklight began discussing Jazz, his love for Vibe would surely come up in a future conversation. It certainly did. And that's where things started to go uphill and downhill at the same time.

Reverb wasn't entirely sure how it had begun or ended, depending on what he was thinking about, but all he knew was that he would be crushed beneath Allout's heel if she ever found out what had happened after Darklight and Reverb had stopped meeting just for interfacial pleasantries. Regardless, their _friendship_ started to get a bit more public.

When Reverb first heard the news that Vibe was leaving the planet, leaving him behind with her more-than-a-friend, Reverb discovered that he wasn't as crushed as he would have expected.

"A real pity, that," he was saying to his companion. For once in a long while, they were back in his quarters, far away from prying audios inside the only good quarters any neutral could get a hold of nowadays. The five room flat had enough space for all of Reverb's more rambunctious and adventurous activities plus enough room for him to have one affair going on in the berthroom and another in his more private living spaces farther away from the door. Darklight lay underneath him, his spike port barely touched as Reverb leaned over him, staring into his flat abdomen and rewinding his thoughts.

"It disgusts me," he continued, "how she continues to pretend to be in love with that flake, after all of the rumors surrounding him about his love interests." Forget the fact that Reverb himself had an even worse reputation.

Darklight rolled his optics, their yellow hues glinting in the dark starry night. Reverb wasn't looking up at him, but he could see in his mind's eye the mech, bathed from what little light always streamed in from the windows "And to think," he said, pointedly, with a charming purr to his voice, "I'm going to get stuck on a ship with her."

"You?" he echoed, wrapping his mind around that thought and feeling a sudden panic flare in his spark. "You're leaving on the Neutral ship?"

"With Allout," he said slowly, frowning. "All bonded Neutrals are going."

Reverb felt somewhat betrayed. "You didn't think of telling me sooner?"

Darklight shifted slightly, uncomfortably. "I didn't know how to break it to you," he said, his unease genuine. If there was anything Reverb had learned, it was how to tell someone was telling the truth or lying through his denta. "I was waiting for the right opportunity."

The cameo grey mech sat up, forgetting about his lover's port bared beneath him. Those gorgeous yellow optics, rarer than any other optic color in the world and understood to be the prettiest optics anyone could ever see, had him enraptured. "That meeting was yesterorn," he said slowly. "When are you leaving?"

"Next vorn," he responded, grimacing and rubbing his helm sheepishly. "If there are no delays."

Reverb nodded as his mind whirled. That was practically a month in Cybertronian time, and that wasn't all that time. "Can you get me on that ship?"

Darklight stiffled a laugh. "What?" He looked at Reverb with a smirk on his lips. "You going to miss me that much?" It was a tease, but Reverb wasn't in the mood for playfulness. He could do that to Darklight later, when he wasn't feeling as strangely _terrified_ as he was.

"Answer the question," he half-snapped, checks turning slightly blue.

The black mech frowned at his lover, golden optics narrowing in sexy slits. "Of course," he said, "Allout rolls over on any issue once I have her between my legs." A smug smirk played on his lips. "She'll let you come."

Reverb let out a vent he hadn't known he was holding and pressed his face into the black mech's abdomen, relieved. "My valve has been waiting for you get out of that meeting," he rumbled, "you know that."

Darklight only gave a choked rumbling sound, struggling to hold back a purr. Reverb smiled, satisfied that he had Darklight wrapped around his digit, and Allout around Darklight's.

0/0/0/0/0

Darklight's princess ruled the ship with an iron fist and all five tons of her shuttle mass. The ship might have been seven times her size, but nothing could countain her almost tank twisting enthusiasm and optimism towards the voyage out into space. No one liked to leave the planet behind, but when it came to Allout, she put a whole new level on hating the Autobot and Decepticon war. Because if it ever came down to leaving the war and the planet along with it, or Darklight and the mostly female neutral crew, she would chose the former. Reverb almost admired her for it, if not for the simple fact that he knew a secret most on the crew did not; Allout had given up Cybertron to whoever won the war. That was the thing; leaving the planet forfieted the spoils to the victor. Everyone one the boat knew it, but they didn't care. They were too pacifistic to defend their homeworld.

That was the tank wrenching conclusion Reverb came to the moment he found himself ostricised once again by the crew and alone to contemplate thoughts a mech like him shouldn't ever contemplate. The longer he remained on board the ship, the more he hated every other mech and femme on it. Scrap that fact that he and Darklight were the only males onboard.

No wonder Allout didn't want him on board. Only the females were leaving on this voyage to the unknown. Allout's reasoning for actually leaving Reverb onboard was because he had might be valuable source of entertainment, and he actually would become Allout's version of entertainment the moment Allout's new pet spy caught any rumors about his illict activities.

They hadn't yet taken off yet and Reverb was already regretting his decision. His room was all packed and ready to go, bolted down where it was needed in preparation for the initial g-force of launch. If the Autobots could teleport them outside of Cybertron's atmosphere, this journey would be a whole lot safer for all involved. But, because they didn't have any teleportation technology, they were forced to wait for the opportune moment to escape. That opportunity was long in waiting.

Reverb blamed Prowl for that. The Autobot's Second-In-Command was a genius tactician (and perhaps one of the reasons Reverb never actually joined the Decepticons) and every tactical plan he had absolute control in always ended in a overwhelming victory. Megatron's own tacticial genius could not compare, and it was only through sneaky mindreading mechs like Soundwave that the Decepticons had any chance of actually defeating the Autobots. They were at a stalemate, and Reverb was of the opinion that Prowl – the logic bound tactician – should join his Logic Brother on the Decepticon side and end the war once and for all. But for reasons that always baffled the pleasure mech, Prowl ignored his own logic and never joined the obviously winning team.

To make matters all the worse, when they finally did take off, he wasn't awake to see it happen. He never saw Cybertron receeding in the distance, never got his chance to really say good-bye, and that made him all the more grouchy. Unfortunately, once they actually got into space, his options had suddenly become very limited. Extremely limited. Limited so much that any step out of "regular crew activities" was likely to end with him being served up for Allout's soup. To put it succinctly, he was very much grouchy.

The long trip across the stars was extremely boring. He never saw Darklight once, and he knew Allout was the cause. Somehow, someway, the giant shuttle she-mech had discovered Darklight's illict affairs. Reverb could only guess as to why he wasn't a pool of molten metal right now.

He had no companions on the ship, not even one-night stands, and he had nothing to do but skulk around the ship and get pointed at and leered at by everyone else. He knew Allout was to blame, and he stewed in angry silence as he gazed out over the peaceable field of black space and twinkling white stars through the massive hallway length window plastered onto the side of the ship. He could hear pedesteps approaching and decided to ignore them, hoping that if ignored the jeers that were sure to come, they would leave him alone.

"Strange to find you all the way out here."

The voice seemed to have its own power as it gripped his spark casing and he turned to look at the mech before him, never before having been happy to see one of his ex-lovers in all of his life. A relieved smile twisted his welcoming grin into a mishmash of lip component movements that should honestly not be possible on a mech's face. It did not help that he had suddenly lost his ability to speak.

"Darklight!"

The black mech shook his helm almost sadly, an amused quirk to his lips. "Not the same being stuck on a ship full of females," he admitted slowly. "Finally nice to have some guy company, you know."

Reverb's expression fell and the mottled grey mech slumped. "Oh. You just came for a chat."

That statement earned a laugh, booming and filled with an emotion Reverb couldn't quite catch. His lips quirked up in amusement, though, as the laugh turned genuine.

"Oh, yeah, it must be extremely difficult for you without the freedom to play with frames," he finally said, sounding as sympathetic as a chuckling rubber wall.

Reverb was not amused. "Can't wait for this damnable voyage to end," he complained.

In the momentary silence, Darklight let out a sigh. "Yeah, it'll be great to get back onto solid ground again." He stretched his arms, interlocking his digits and stretching his arms over his helm while Reverb watched from the corner of his optic. A flash of gold light told him that he'd been caught, but Darklight didn't tease. "You really haven't gotten much into your berth, have you?"

"How can you tell?" Reverb asked, tiredly. "It's so lonely in my room all by myself all the time. No one to talk to, no one who doesn't throw a datapad at your head or call you a slut, anyway."

"_Your_ head, you mean," Darklight said, giving a dark purr.

The mottled grey mech's lip quirked at that, remembering many times he had the mech beside him purring darkly as he hammered his spike hard into Reverb's pleasure valve. Oh, those were the good times. Reverb sighed. "I just hope we land on somewhere made of metal. I'd hate to discover I have no place but this damnable ship to play on."

Darklight tilted his helm curiously. "Oh, haven't you heard?"

Reverb frowned, suddenly angrily. So many mecha onboard had left him out of the loop that it left him feeling extremely ostricised, even when the jeering and leers didn't send him packing. "What?"

"Allout's planning to land on a planet not that far from here," said the black mech, gold optics gleaming in that sexy way Reverb always liked. It put him in a much better mood. Well, comparably speaking.

He propped his helm up with his servos. "Oh?" he said, only mildly curious.

Darklight raised an optic ridge at him. "It's energy rich and very mountainous. You'll like it there."

Reverb tilted his helm, glancing around himself. "Any place is better than here," he mumbled, his optics drawn back to outside. The black expanse of space stretched out forever, spattered with far away celestial objects.

Movement in the reflection caught his optic and he saw black arms aimed to land on him, clapping his shoulders soundly. Darklight moved closer, dipping his head close enough for a whispered conversation but not close enough to be considered overly invasive. "We'll have a night there, just the two of us, and I'll make this trip a thing of the past. Agreed?"

Reverb smiled, a slow twisted smile that reflected his burning blue lust filled optics. If Darklight wanted a night alone with him, Reverb was more than ready to make it so that the other mech couldn't walk anymore. "Agreed." He turned his own blue optics towards the other's gold. "Y'know. I think I'm gonna love it there."

Darklight smiled, as sexy and dark as the day Reverb had first met the charismatic mech. "I thought you might."

0/0/0/0/0

Energy rich was perhaps the only redeemable quality that the whole organic filled planet had. While everyone else piled off the ship, more than happy to stretch their legs and explore the unfamiliar territory, Reverb found himself much more hesitant in approaching and examining the new terrain. Organic growths grew everywhere, twisting and forking in unfamiliar shapes, creating a very fascinating atmosphere for a scientist, but not for Reverb, who saw every prickly object as an uncomfortable and unimportant stage place for a good interface.

But the new surroundings and the last dregs of cabin fever had them all explore more territory than they'd normally dared, and while the only Autobots onboard – Vibe, Strongarm and some other females – tried to keep them from going too far and falling off the edge of the planet, or worse, fall into Decepticon hands (Reverb didn't mind at all seeing some of them be tortured to death by Decepticon hands). The energy rich atmosphere seemed to have captivated everyone's attention, promising something that the neutral's hadn't had in a long while – an abundant flow of energon.

Reverb managed to sneak away from them, simply because the moment he was off ship most everyone had stopped paying any attention to him. Everyone else had probably already assumed that Reverb wouldn't attempt to interface anyone up unless he was on a smooth berth (and, in fact, some of them actually did believe that Reverb was chained to his berth). But anyone who really knew Reverb knew he was more explorative than what other's might give him credit for. He explored on and off the berth, in anyway and anyhow he could.

Trails of green twisted off into the distance, cut a part by trails of brown or grey, spotted with blues and yellows, actually made the planet look very beautiful and what was initially a world of limited options openned up into a world of possibilities. Boulders twice his size stretched high over the ground and some marked small areas where the trees didn't grow, while yet other more mountainous regions had entire regions where organic life didn't grow and beautiful views for him to look out over as he waited for his next lover to wake up for another session. He could not stop himself from thinking that his lover would be Darklight. Every possible spot he came across was a spot for him and Darklight, and no one else.

He finally backtracked over the trails, using his memory to identify areas of land which had traversed over and quickly finding himself back at the ship. A few stragglers out front greeted him with the usual "Oh, so you didn't get lost, fragger?" and "Bummer he's not half as good looking as Darklight." He ignored them and kept going, satisfied in the knowledge that Darklight was his and his alone, and not even Allout could prevent them from having time together. How many of these femmes and mechs had felt the power of Darklight's spike in their valve? None of them, beyond Reverb and Allout herself.

Reverb sought out Darklight specifically, careful to keep out of Allout's sight the entire time. He found Darklight talking with Vibe about security, of all things. Reverb shrugged it off.

"You can't organize the neutrals like their Autobot soldiers," Darklight argued, his engine giving low snarls. "We don't know the first thing about defense. You should focus on keeping your own femmes on watch and not try to get us involved in your childish games of war."

"The Prime ordered us to protect all Cybertronians on this vessel and we are going to do it. And since it also involved some of your own self preservation, I'd think your neutrals would be willing to protect themselves against any Decepticon threats."

"Look around you, Mistress," he half-sneered, and Reverb couldn't help but feel some small amount of satisfaction from his best buddy standing up to the Third-In-Command's sex-doll. Darklight was coiling himself up for a strike. "There aren't any Decepticon's around here. So, take your high and mighty attitude and shove it elsewhere. We are done with the war and we aren't going to go along with your stupid ideas anymore. If Optimus wanted to protect us, he should have come down here himself."

Reverb backed up, not wanting to tarnish Darklight's spotlight while Vibe was present. It surprised him that he didn't see much in Vibe anymore, his attention having been diverted elsewhere for so long that it had started to matter less. When the red Autobot was gone, Reverb stepped out to wave at Darklight, catching the male's gold optic and causing the black mech to relax his shoulders. Reverb greeted him with a saucy smile. "So, I found the perfect spot for us."

Darklight blinked his optics once before he finally returned the grin, remembering what he had talked about with Reverb. "Perfect. I'll bring a few toys and some energon." He chuckled. "We won't need to conserve our energy now that we are on planet, right?"

"Right," Reverb agreed, with that strange feeling that Darklight had referenced something he didn't know about, but he dismissed it. "How should I service you, mate?"

Darklight's expression grew much more beautiful at that question and Reverb wanted to pat himself on the back for illicting such a response from the Neutral Leader's bonded. His gold optics had narrowed into sexy slights and his energon-blue tongue briefly exposed itself as he licked his lips. Reverb loved the fact he had this mech wrapped around his digits, and that made his grin widden.

"Anyway you'd like, handsome."

Reverb felt his spark leap in his chest at that nickname, but his expression remained fixed in a smile as some strange doubt warmed into his spark.

"Perfect," he rumbled. "We can leave now."

0/0/0/0/0

Tricking the others, especially the Autobots, into turning a blind optic towards the pair as they disappeared was the easy part, though Reverb's fuel-pump went a few hundred miles too fast. The sickeningly stupid Autobot sentry had accepted their combined desire to have some alone "male time" and allowed them to leave unmolested. Reverb knew that "unmolested" was not a term he would soon be applying to the sexily swaying hips in front of him. The black mech was going to have his spike hammered until he had cummed twice, or else Reverb had fainted from exhaustion.

Reverb took the lead shortly afterwards, guiding his lover to the perfect spot just above a small hill of land and towards the alcove, where a secret dark crack revealed a large cave. Enough light poored in so that they wouldn't be in complete darkness, but the shadowed recesses meant privacy from all optics and they would have however long they wanted to enjoy their time together. (Killjoy shuddered when she realized that she was sitting in the same cave they arrived in to satisfy themselves. She didn't get up out of fear for picking out the exact spot where they ejaculated on the walls, and she found herself immensely creeped out over the images trying to rearrange themselves into her mind.)

The floor felt warm beneath their bodies as they pressed close, Reverb's engine putting his name where his mouth was and messaging the mech's spike beneath him. Darklight had yet to pull himself back out and didn't really want to at that moment – Reverb's pleasure valve was tighter and hotter than a female's valve and he enjoyed the superiority of having his lover pressed facedown into the smooth cave floor. Reverb's eagerness and sexual frustration had built into a fantastic game of plug and play that Darklight couldn't help but moan and groan underneath, as he found himself pinned between needy pleasure bot and hard rocky ground. Joor stretched by in what seemed like minutes as Darklight overloaded himself into exhaustion and Reverb was forced to follow suit, much more satisfied than he had been in a long while.

"Well," said Reverb, when the throaty roar of his engine had become unbearable in the strange awkwardness which had settled over them. He planted his elbows on either side of Darklight's helm, frowning thoughtfully down at the mech.

"Well," Darklight responded, neutrally.

Reverb frowned. "Don't tell me you dragged me out here just for a good frag."

Darklight chuckled, his voice rich and smooth and all kinds of sexy as they bounced into Reverb's audios. "No, I just knew the idea of finding a new interface kink would appeal to you."

The mottled grey mech frowned. "Well, you got me here. Now what?"

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in a position here," Darklight began, slowly. "As an officer in an army."

Reverb blanched, shifting himself and rolling his hips. "I'm not interested in joining the Autobots."

Darklight grunted, his lip curling as he shifted beneath the dark grey mech. "I wasn't talking about them."

Reverb recalled the conversation Darklight had had with Vibe and realized how foolish he was, his face transforming into a scowl. "Oh?" asked Reverb. "Does Allout know about this?"

"No. Heh, you could write a book about all the things my bonded doesn't know."

"Not very loyal of you, is it?"

"Ha! My loyalty is to one mech and one cause. Nothing else."

"Oh? And what cause would that be?"

"The Decepticons."

Reverb actually sat up. "The Decepticons," he repeated, testing that word on his vocalizer. "Here?"

Darklight grinned. "Why else do you think I convinced Allout to come here?"

The dark grey mech frowned, confused, his mind trying to wallow through the thoughts in his helm. He had thought Darklight was bonded to Allout, wasn't he? That meant loyalty, but this was obviously not loyalty. Reverb was struggling to put two and two together and his overload previously wasn't helping matters. "She's your bonded. Don't you share things with each other all the time?"

"She's my bonded only because she's easily manipulated," growled Darklight, and Reverb could practically hear the silent 'like you' tacked on to the end there but he found that he didn't care. It helped that he was very comfy where he was, and he rolled his hips, smiling at the rewarding grunt he received from the other 'neutral'.

Reverb went serious. "And who would be here, on this backwater of a world?"

The black mech finally had enough of being dominated and decided to turn the tables, exposing his own spike and gripping Reverb's. The dark grey mech let him.

"Ever heard of the femme Black Arachnid?" he asked, after he had settled in.

Reverb had, and in his opinion he had heard many nice things about her, especially in the berth.

"She'd be very interested in you, y'know. The only mech in vorns who has any real experience with the opposite gender," Darklight continued, smiling as he whispered his sweet nothings into a fully open audio.

"Hmmhmm," Reverb managed, feeling the need to add to that. "And the same gender."

Darklight actually paused at that. "Right."

And from where he sat, bathing in the touches of his companion, he found that the idea of becoming a Decepticon appealed to him more and more. He hated Allout, for reason he wasn't so sure of himself, and he hated Jazz and Vibe by extention. Wouldn't it be fun to see them crushed under the heels of a hot Decepticon femme? Even as his thoughts shifted to demanded more erotic pleasures out of his less experiences companion, he found himself enjoying the idea of power that it gave him and the growing desire for that power over someone else.

"Black Arachnid," he repeated, imagination going wild as he thought of the many ways he could tie her to the berth, or get her between his legs. Darklight gabbed his attention once more as his electric blue tongue snaked out to touch the tip of his exposed spike. He found himself imagining Black Arachnid there, licking his spike, and he found himself liking to the idea – though not as much as he thought he might.

"That would be _nice_."

Those words earned him a rather hard nip to his spike tip and he moaned out in surprise at the pleasure rippling over his spike as Darklight took him and sucked, electricity flashing between his tongue and Reverb's spike. Reverb arched into the touch, letting out a moan of shock, and feeling the pressure inside his spike suddenly grow. Darklight pulled away, leaving Reverb wanting and unfulfilled. From the glitter in his gold optics, Reverb realized that Darklight knew it too. And a strange dark feeling wrapped around his spark, but he pushed it aside. Could the mech look any better than that?

"Perfect," he purred, his tongue flickering out teasingly and lapping up Reverb's length. "I'll arrange a meeting for you two, sometime soon." His optics darkened, and Reverb thought he'd never looked sexier. Darklight smiled. "I'm sure you'll be more than perfect."

The black mech took Reverb whole and Reverb let out a surprised shout, feeling the tension and pressure in his spike rising to unbearable heights as denta scrapped across his spike. Darklight pulled away before he could fully cum, teasing another series of gentle licks and nips out of his spike, and a few moans out of his mouth.

Reverb didn't think he was going to regret his decision.

0/0/0/0/0

Darklight had him hook, line, and sinker. Killjoy was disgusted, recognizing the taletall signs of someone who knew they were in control from the get go. Her thoughts instantly turned to one simple conclusion; Darklight was a Decepticon spy and had been from the moment he landed on the neutral camp, manipulating his way through the Neutral ranks.

But why? What reason would he have for getting buddy, buddy with a few hundred neutrals and one Decepticon sympathizer? Speaking of which, the more she knew about this mech, the less she found she cared about the fact that she had killed him. In the end, he deserved it. He was a selfish _pleasure_ bot, and not in it just to help others enjoy themselves.

_Karma is a bitch and her weapon was Killjoy._

Reverb had only come to the boulder the very next day, intending on joining with Darklight and becoming a Decepticon. He had painted the purple Decepticon insignia on his chest out of childish pride for his soon-to-be faction. When he met the small black and white she-mech at the boulder, he had at first thought Black Arachnid was testing him. He was dead wrong.

Killjoy stared at the corpse at her feet and shuddered as memories of her slaughter came back unbidden, but from two separate points of view. She recognized the coldness which had entered her stare, the terrible emotionlessness which had gripped her during that time in the body language in the mech she came to recognize as herself. He had no defenses, no way of reacting in time to save his life. He was dead. And she struggled to come to terms with the fact that she had mercilessly slaughtered a mech, who thought guilty had never gone to trial, had no way of raping her and had no intention of doing so without her permission.

That was the only really redeemable quality that Reverb had – if one considered that redeemable. He respected others enough not to rape them.

She had slaughtered him.

She shook herself, pulling her attention back to the present and the immediate future. There were two femmes of power here; Allout and Black Arachnid. She wasn't familiar with Allout, beyond her newfound memories. Allout was perhaps boisterous and stupid, but that was only observations Reverb had made and he was jaded and baised. Black Arachnid was the wild card, and beyond her own knowledge of alternate transformer universes and alternate Black Arachnias and 'nids, she knew nothing about what could very well be the 'real' Black Arachnid. One lead the Neutrals, one the Decepticons, with Autobots and traitors caught up in the middle.

Reverb had no real information for her to work on, no real idea of just exactly where Black Arachnid was and what she was doing. Only Darklight had that and she had just terminated the only being in the whole world who could have got her connected with the traitor. Then again, if Reverb hadn't died she wouldn't be aware of this traitor to begin with.

Ugh, life was complicated.

On the plus side, she now had a better idea on how to work her vehicle forms and to transcan properly. One never knows when that might come in handy.

When she finally stood up again, she had to sit back down again. Her valve pulsed painfully and she shuddered as her digits brushed the mesh surrounding the slit in her skin. A thought came to her and she reached out towards the mech, yanking off his crotch plating with a few swift jerks. He wouldn't be needing it, and if her hunch was right it was the perfect fit for her own armor problem. Her optics roamed over his dead form. While she was here, she might as well steal some of the other armor too. No one knew when Darklight or even Black Arachnid would be back around to search for him. And Darklight would know his location because this was the very spot they had-

She shut off that thought swiftly. No need for more nightmares, thank you very much. She did not want to think of what Reverb _felt _while Darklight pounded the senses right out of his processor.

Her current ache and pain was nothing more than a reminder. A reminder of what shouldn't have happened and what would never happen again… if she had anything to say about it.

0/0/0/0/0


End file.
